Ten Steps To Freedom
by ScottPress
Summary: Azkaban and Gringotts turn out to be not as impenetrable as everyone thinks and Albus Dumbledore meets his match. Tonight is not a good night to be an Auror. Join Harry Potter on his quest to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.
1. Step One: Arrival

**Disclaimer:** On my profile page. Same goes for all subsequent chapters.

**Step One: Arrival**

A Time-Turner is a remarkable piece of magic. Of course, the universe has its ways of keeping the lid on those who would seek control over Time. Bad things tend to happen to people who push their experiments beyond known limits.

The most powerful Turners could take the user back six hours. Only a few years passed between their invention during the Second World War and reaching that apparently absolute upper bound. After that, the research hit a dead end. Formulas for more powerful devices appeared to make no sense. Calculations led to impossible or astronomically improbable results. Magic bent in inexplicable ways or refused to bend at all.

Ironically enough, theory behind Time-Turners suggested that traveling back more than six hours should be possible, but when actually applied, it turned into gibberish. This bred the conclusion that some yet undiscovered knowledge must be acquired before building more powerful Turners would be possible. So, researchers locked themselves in their dungeons to experiment some more. In a way, they had been right. The missing knowledge was discovered almost a hundred years later.

One of the pioneers behind the Time-Turner theory had been Marco Agrattsi, one of Grindelwald's lieutenants. They were to Grindelwald what the Inner Circle of Death Eaters was to Voldemort. For reasons known only to him, he hid the fruit of his work with a Fidelius Charm.

Voldemort wasn't the most feared Dark Lord of recent history for nothing. Where Grindelwald had failed, he succeeded. One by one, he eliminated his strongest opponents, until he could finally assume control of Wizarding Britain. Conflict soon extended onto continental Europe. As Voldemort gained more power, he took steps to neutralize the muggles. He had his agents either steal or disable weapons of mass destruction. Still unaware of wizards, muggles succumbed to mass panic, thinking that some terrorist group now had this arsenal and was going to use it sooner or later. All the while, Voldemort's forces grew in size and skill. Within a year, he orchestrated the Great Reveal, throwing the Statute of Secrecy out the window. From there, everything went downhill. Voldemort's opponents had to resort to guerilla tactics and surgical strikes on his top commanders.

The war continued in that way for years, until on one sunny day in 2019, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was visited by a man claiming to be Marco Agrattsi's son. He proposed to use his father's research to create a Time-Turner powerful enough to travel back years, to end the war before it began, provided that his instructions would be followed to the letter. After lengthy deliberations, the Order's leadership decided to accept the man's offer, knowing that it could all just be an elaborate trap. At this point, they were willing to try anything.

~~oOo~~

"How much longer?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked up at him, eyes shining. "One minute, it's almost done!"

"I don't think this door will last another minute," Ron said.

"So be prepared to push them back! Isn't that why you're here?"

The apparatus in the middle of the room was buzzing, humming and making a hundred other sounds as the Time-Turner inside was being overcharged with magic and the energy from Floo powder.

"It's ready!"

At the same moment, the door was blown off its hinges and followed by a flurry of spells. The Dark Lord stepped inside, wand raised.

"Harry, go! There's no time!"

"We're all going!"

"Your undying dedication to each other is truly heart-warming," the Dark Lord interrupted. "What a pity you chose the wrong side."

More spellfire lit up the room. Harry glanced at his friends and gritted his teeth. Hermione was right – there was no time. Between the three of them, they could handle Voldemort and a bunch of Death Eaters, but the problem wasn't in winning. According to Hermione, the extra magic in the Time-Turner would disperse in approximately thirty seconds. They were good, but escaping would take more time than this.

Harry grabbed the Turner, threw the chain around his neck and started turning it frantically, each turn marking a year instead of an hour, while Ron and Hermione held off the assault as best they could.

"Twenty-eight," he muttered. "Well, here we go."

~~oOo~~

Twenty-eight years earlier, in an abandoned property just off Knockturn Alley, time stopped. A window rattled by the wind went still. A crow, launching off the windowsill, froze in mid-flight. And then something appeared in the middle of the room. It looked like a crack in the air, a ripple in the very darkness of the night, as if some astral claw cut reality apart. Microscopic at first, it grew in size, glittering and colorful, until a swirling funnel formed in the air. Tiny, crackling sparks adorned its gaping maw, but no sound could be heard.

All of a sudden, the colors stopped flowing, making it look as if a small piece of a rainbow hung above the floor. A sudden gust of wind came through the open window, stifling the sparks. There was a boom of thunder and a man-shaped object was spit out of the funnel's bright center. It dropped on the floor with a loud thud, there was a whistle, the funnel flashed brightly, and dissolved.

At once, time and sound came back. The window collided with its frame, almost shattering the glass. The crow flew away. Harry sat up on the floor and moaned loudly.

The one benefit of Voldemort's unexpected attack was that he was wearing his dragon hide armor and had his equipment on him. Disadvantages would include the deaths of everyone else left in the Headquarters, including Hermione and Ron.

He shook his head of those thoughts. It didn't matter now. Agrattsi had explained – and Hermione confirmed it – why exactly he shouldn't feel bad about leaving his friends behind, if that should happen. Usually Time-Turners affected the reality backwards, sort of. The effects of any future time-travel were already incorporated into the present. If the classic model held up in this case, he should expect a swift death very soon, before he could cause any significant changes and Harry Potter, aged eleven, would go through life and end up fighting a losing war against Voldemort in the future.

If Agrattsi was right, however, this was _real_ time-travel. If time was like an endless string, then Harry had just cut off a good length at the end. There was no parallel timeline where Ron and Hermione were currently losing to Voldemort. Harry had just erased twenty-eight years of history of the universe from existence.

Or maybe not. Either way, he shouldn't waste time. It was good to know that the Time-Turner worked and reality hadn't been torn apart because of some horrible paradox, but getting here was really the easy part. There was much left to do. He dropped the Time-Turner to the floor and crushed it under his heel. Chances of him fucking up so badly that he'd need it to fix things were slim. He and Hermione had worked on the Plan for months, taking hundreds of possible scenarios into account. If he was ever prepared for anything in his life, it was this.

Reaching inside one of the pockets, he mumbled something and a small, metallic object leapt into his hand. Biting down on it lightly, he pinched his nose, blocking the airway and counted to thirty before inhaling deeply. The device immediately filtered the air, sending an invigorating dose of oxygen to his lungs. Confident that it worked – above water level, at least – he cracked his knuckles and, with a soft pop, disappeared.


	2. Step Two: Prisoner

**Step Two: Prisoner**

Harry instinctively kicked his legs – which was useless, of course – before he broke the water surface with the force of a small cannonball.

Apparating directly above the North Atlantic might not sound like the smartest idea, but Harry was prepared. He had helped Hermione enchant the equipment. They even managed to test some of it. Thanks to the warming charms woven into his clothes, he only felt a pleasant chill instead of the freezing cold and the only shock he received was the sudden change in gravitational pull.

He blinked rapidly, activating the charms on the contact lenses he was wearing and his vision cleared - he could make out the tiny bubbles of air he was breathing out through the filtration apparatus, giving him a sense of up and down. He swam upward and turned around. Seeing his target, he touched a rune on his belt, activating another enchantment on his gear. The armguards began summoning the water in front of him and his boots banished the water behind him, allowing him to swim quickly towards the great, dark shape looming on the horizon.

Azkaban.

The triangle-shaped fortress consisted of three walls connecting at sixty degree angles. Inside the walls, on thirty-three levels, three of which were underground, were rows of cells. The enormous walls of the prison – named A, B and C wings, for simplicity's sake – faced east, north-west and south-west respectively and sat perched upon a small islet, an otherwise bare rock. The inner space was hollow except for the Azkaban Staircases – narrow walkways connecting various levels of the prison, creating a chaotic web that took months to learn to navigate, seeing as there weren't any signs anywhere. Every Auror stationed at Azkaban carried a broom on their person at all times in case they had to get somewhere quickly.

Azkaban was guarded in many ways – apart from around-the-clock Auror garrison there were dementors, the wards, and in the waters surrounding the island, several less than friendly creatures that the government had taken great pains in relocating here.

Below the Staircases, at the bottom of the pit, was a small, rocky pond. Even though it rained most of the year here, the water level never rose. Wizards, being wizards, did not concern themselves with this phenomenon. There was no anomaly though – the pond was directly connected to the ocean via a long, zigzagging, claustrophobic tunnel. Well, it would be claustrophobic if there was ever anyone stupid enough to try and swim through it.

Soon enough, Harry closed the distance between himself and the island to little more than a mile. He could feel the powerful magic pressing against his own, signifying how close he was to the edge of the wards.

_Time to dive._

He touched another rune on the belt and his body armor turned into lead, pulling him down into the depths of the ocean.

He watched the digits on the depth-meter change rapidly. He was plunging deeper and deeper and yet felt no different than he had on the surface. He was well aware of the very real possibility of sudden death should the enchantments fail. He was almost a mile underwater now, and only magic was keeping the pressure from crushing his body like a plastic bottle. He had an emergency portkey set to activate automatically in case of danger and take him two miles up, so he wasn't too worried. Still, the adrenaline pumping through his veins heightened his senses to near-inhuman levels.

He spun around, following a long, slender shadow moving swiftly through the water with his eyes. It couldn't be more than a hundred feet away. Thanks to his charmed lenses, he could make out square-shaped scales.

_I've never seen a sea-serpent before._

Actually, he wasn't sure that what he was looking at was indeed a sea-serpent, but it was a good bet. There weren't many snake-like creatures of that size.

The depth-meter crossed the one mile threshold and he reactivated the enchantment that allowed him to swim. All he had to do was steer.

The wards of Azkaban extended a mile in every direction, essentially forming a giant ball of magic, two miles in diameter, whose surface was only broken by the rock at the foot of the island. The wards were strongest above water level, where it was easy to monitor them and where their strength was most needed. They were still fairly potent about three hundred feet below the surface.

At the moment, he was next to the foundation of the island, _below _the edge of the ward-bubble. So deep down, their magic lost a lot of its power, also because of the magical creatures that inhabited caverns in the rock. The sea-serpent, for example, being a close cousin of the basilisk, was a powerful magical creature and would set off the wards every time it passed through, so the excess power was redirected to the upper half of the bubble. In result, the lower edge of the wards was near nonexistent. One well-placed Obscuring Charm and you could transport any number of dark artifacts inside their perimeter.

Harry deactivated the transfiguration rune, turning the armguards and his boots back into dragon hide. No longer weighed down by the lead, he started ascending quickly.

He kept focused on the magic around him. As he rose, the wards' edge grew farther, but the magic grew stronger, so their influence remained roughly the same. He kept glancing at his depth-meter as well. When he hit minus two hundred feet, he grabbed at the rock and looked around. He couldn't see the entrance, but he could tell it wasn't far away. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let his own magic touch on any traces of unfamiliar magic around him. His eyes flew open and he looked up. Rising several more feet, he tried touching the rock – his hand went right through it. The outside entrance to the tunnel under Azkaban was protected only by a simple illusion that masked its mouth. He felt for the edge of the opening and leaned forward-

Something big and fast slammed into him, sending him spinning uncontrollably through the water, away from the rock wall. He waved his hands around wildly, trying to stabilize himself. He breathed in and out, observing the air-bubbles race toward his feet.

He righted himself and scanned his surroundings. There was nothing below or above him, in front of him or to the sides...

The sea-serpent approached from behind, its jaws missing his arm by an inch. The enormous creature descended quickly, melting into darkness. Harry blinked rapidly, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. He swam back towards the island, propelled by enchantments and muscles and let his magic licked the rock again.

_I need to get inside before that thing returns..._

He found the tunnel much quicker this time, swimming inside just as the sea-serpent snapped its jaws at where his legs had been a second before. Looking over his shoulder every few feet, he advanced through the tunnel. The monster wasn't done yet. Its head shot inside the tunnel. Harry kicked off the wall and swam forward as fast as he could.

Some thirty feet in, the tunnel narrowed considerably. The serpent's head got stuck there, knife-sized teeth cutting through water inches away from Harry's feet. Now relatively safe, he did what any self-respecting adventurer would do in this situation – he paused to admire the creature that almost killed him. He wondered what was the average number of encounters with giant predatory snakes in a lifetime per one person.

The sea-serpent, unable to reach its prey, got bored after a moment and retreated from the tunnel. Harry spun around and started advancing carefully. The passage soon became so narrow that he had to constantly watch out for sharp edges that threatened to cut through his clothes and skin where they weren't protected by armor.

Harry felt like he had spent ages in the tunnel before finally emerging into the pond inside the Azkaban's walls. He broke the surface slowly, scanning the area. Fortunately, there were no Aurors close by. The lowest walkway was nearly fifty feet above him. He swam up to a smooth, stone wall and found the nearest steel-barred window. He tucked the filtration device away and raised his wand, making a lazy wave, and the bars turned into steel-colored rubber. He tried prying two bars away from each other. Satisfied, he hoisted himself up and tried squeezing through, but rubber this thick was still pretty firm. He vanished the two bars in the middle and this time successfully got through.

He lowered himself toward the wet floor eight feet below, blocking his feet against the bars, hands outstretched. Realizing his mistake in going head first, he swore quietly and carefully rolled on his back before coming to his feet.

"Jervis?" a raspy voice called from a corner. "Is that you?"

Harry froze for a moment and turned to face an apparently blind prisoner.

"He's right behind me, mate. No worries," he lied and examined the cell door.

It was a thick metal plate with no distinguishing features. He knew there was a doorknob on the other side. He also knew the door itself was charmed to prevent escape and there was no way to open it from the inside, unless you were willing to use magic and risk detection. The walls, however, weren't charmed.

It was the little details – unprotected window bars, uncharmed walls – that painted a picture of Azkaban not nearly as intimidating as everyone thought it was. There were enough holes in the security blanket to make an escape possible, if one cared to look. Of course, once – if - you escaped the cell, you still had dementors, Aurors and the ocean to deal with, not to mention lack of a wand. Another solution was to have help from outside. Or better yet, the inside. Even Aurors could be bought.

Harry restored the window to its original condition and transfigured a portion of the wall into water, keeping it in place. He peeked outside through this unusual curtain and once certain the corridor was clear, stepped through it and canceled the transfiguration. He was now on level four of the C wing. Maximum security prisoners were kept in the three underground levels. Aurors rarely patrolled the dungeons, but dementors roamed those halls often enough. His target was also in the C wing, but three floors down. He could transfigure his way down and then back up, but not outside. Regrettably, outer walls of the prison were protected against any such tricks. And that meant either going back through the tunnel, which was simply out of the question – he wouldn't be able to keep track of his target there – or making a run for it in full view of the Aurors. He and Hermione had predicted that course of action in he planning stage and he was prepared for it.

He reached into another of his magically expanded pockets and drew out his trusty Cloak. He'd had made it into a proper cloak too, with a hood and fastenings in the front. After graduating from Hogwarts he realized he felt like an idiot parading with a sheet thrown over his head.

He cast a Silencing Charm on his boots and transfigured a round patch of the floor into water, like he had done with the cell wall previously. Leaning over he edge, he scanned the dark hallway below quickly and jumped down through his makeshift portal. Within a short minute, he reached the bottom level in that fashion and walked briskly in the south-western direction. It had been impossible to obtain detailed information of where his target had resided during her time in Azkaban, so he would have to check every cell in the C wing of the floor, if necessary.

Luckily for him, higher powers seemed to be in a good mood tonight.

An Auror turned the corner, illuminating the way with his wand. Harry, who was just about to waterize another wall, grinned in delight.

"_Imperio_!" he intoned, aiming at the Auror. He was young, obviously a rookie. It was common practice to send fresh graduates of the Auror Academy up to Azkaban to toughen them up. A few months of watching over prisoners in the constant company of dementors either hardened the rookies or turned them into nervous wrecks. Harry thought it was an elegant way of weeding out the queasy ones.

The Auror came to an abrupt stop and his face became blank as the curse took effect.

"Do you know where Bellatrix Lestrange is kept and if not, do you know someone who knows and where are they?"

The Auror gave an affirmative moan and started marching stiffly forward.

"Hey," Harry called after him. "Can't you just tell me?"

"C wing, level one, cell twenty-eight," the Auror said immediately.

"Thanks. Now, can you open that door over there?"

Harry's minion nodded and walked up to the designated door and unlocked it with a big, crude key.

"I'll be taking that," Harry said, plucking the key from the Auror's hand. "Get inside."

As soon as the Auror crossed the threshold, Harry cast a stunner at him. The Auror fell face first into a puddle of water. Harry moved him a bit to the left. No reason to let him just drown like that. Then he locked the cell and crept forward carefully, checking cell numbers. He found twenty-eight soon enough and shoved the key inside the lock, only to learn it didn't fit.

_Damn._

Apparently the highest priority prisoners' cells required a separate key. Actually, Hermione might have mentioned that...

Harry discarded the useless key and performed another transfiguration, not bothering with keeping the water in place this time. It splashed to the floor, wetting it even further.

Inside, he found a miserable looking Bellatrix Lestrange. She was a shade of the witch she had once been. There was barely any flesh beneath her pale skin. She looked almost like a corpse. Her current ghastly appearance was a testament to Snape's skill as a Potions Master. No doubt his brews had a lot to do with her recovery before the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

He cast the Imperius Curse at her and gave her an invisibility cloak. It was a cheap imitation of his own, made of demiguise hairs, though decent enough.

"Put it on and stay quiet."

Outside the cell, Harry pulled out a broom from one of his magical pockets. It was an unnamed model, put together by a former broom manufacturer who had joined the Order in the early 2000s. Its job was to be maneuverable and fast in a straight line and it did both well. He hopped onto the broom and ordered Bellatrix to get on behind him and hold on. Their escape would be fast and furious.

They needed to get to the fourth level. From there, Harry could blast a window out of the wall and leave the building. He pointed his wand straight up at the ceiling, grinning in anticipation. It was his favorite spell.

"_Az-reth_!"

Fiendfyre was merciless. The black-and-red flames ate out a hole in the ceiling, clearing the way. Keeping up the steady torrent of fire, Harry ascended through the opening and proceeded to do the same with the next ceiling.

He still hadn't seen any signs of activity by the time they had reached the fourth level. He melted the nearest cell door with Fiendfyre and blasted the window out, along with a good chunk of the wall. They now had a way out.

He guided the broom towards it and shot outside, immediately swerving out of the way of a volley of stunners. A group of Aurors was hovering just beneath the Staircases. Harry hastily raised a shield, deflecting the few stray spells that had come too close and forced the broom into a climb, veering between the walkways. The Aurors gave pursuit. Above them, a horde of dementors amassed, their skeletal hands reaching out as the wraiths descended upon the two escapees like birds of prey.

Harry raised his wand and thundered, "_AZ-RETH_!"

Fiendfyre materialized again, hurrying to meet the dementors head on. Harry hoped it would be enough to punch a hole in their ranks. He couldn't cast the Patronus Charm anymore. Dark magic was powerful, but such power came at a price, a piece of which was sacrificing one's ability to use certain other kinds of magic. It had been more than twenty years since he'd last summoned Prongs.

He formed the flames into a shell around the broom. Fiendfyre swirled around him and Bellatrix, keeping dementors at bay. Finally, they reached the top of the prison and endless, rainy sky opened before them. Harry pushed the broom even harder, allowing the Fiendfyre to disperse. He didn't have to worry about the Aurors anymore – their brooms were far inferior. Dementors were fast though. In all honesty, he didn't know just how fast, but he wasn't going to stop to find out. He rocketed upward without looking back until he felt magical pressure of Azkaban's wards wash off of him. Still going strong, he apparated himself, Bellatrix and the broom away.


	3. Step Three: Cup

**Step Three: Cup**

Apparating while moving increases the chance of splinching exponentially, hence most people prefer to be standing still before attempting apparition. That was also why magical governments set up nets of public apparition points. Those locations were to apparition what fireplaces were to the Floo network – thanks to them witches and wizards could safely get from point A to point B without rushing and thus greatly diminish the risk of splinching or collision, which was probably one of the worst ways to die – imagine two people apparating to the same exact spot at the same time. Ninety percent of such accidents were fatal for both parties. If you were lucky, you only lost a part of your body, permanently, but you lived. Now, if you could live without the missing body part was another matter.

Public apparition points were heavily warded and usually allowed anywhere from ten to thirty people to apparate there at the same time. The enchantments prevented apparition if there was no free space available. Of course, wizards with higher than average skill simply apparated as they pleased. It could be quite hazardous and collisions and splinching were more probable.

Apparating from open air to an indoor space, with a passenger and a broom, at two hundred miles per hour was pretty much a guaranteed death sentence - but not for Harry. He landed heavily, but surely, the broom firmly in his hand. Bellatrix tumbled to the floor. She had splinched – a few fingers were missing. Sighing, he grabbed her palm and pressed his wand to the bleeding spots, cauterizing the injuries with heat. He couldn't let her bleed to death – not yet, anyway. He still needed her.

He hid the broom, tucked the wand away into its holster and moved on to the next stage of the Plan, completely unbaffled by his own successful apparition, which was quite an achievement under the circumstances.

Harry Potter had an uncanny talent for breaking all sorts of rules.

~~oOo~~

After drying himself off with a Warming Charm, Harry took off his jacket and rolled up the left sleeve. The next step required convincing Bellatrix that he was on her side – or, more importantly, on Voldemort's side.

With a spell, he created a simple replica of the Dark Mark and examined the result. It should hold up long enough. That done, he put the jacket back on and stunned the still Imperiused Bellatrix, putting more power behind the spell than was necessary, just in case. Then he tied a ribbon around her wrist. It was enchanted – Bellatrix wouldn't be able to take it off and it was connected to a fake coin by a Protean Charm. In the unlikely event that she woke up while Harry was gone, he would be able to track her down.

He apparated from the abandoned building to a dark street in the muggle part of London. It carried some risk, but the chance of someone looking out of the window at this hour was small.

As he had guessed, the street was deserted. He strolled at a leisurely pace toward the Leaky Cauldron. Only a few people sat at the far tables, no doubt indulging in a late night drink. Harry walked over to the counter, where Tom's night-time employee was occupying himself with reading a book.

"_A short history of time_," Harry read the title. "Looks muggle."

"Right you are, sir," the barkeeper said. "They have some interestin' stuff. What will it be?"

"Look, I know it's the middle of the night, but I was actually hoping to get a dinner for two. My friend and I just got back from a long trip and we're starving."

"I'll cook something up, sure," the man replied. "Don't see your friend though."

"He's in his flat. I'm bunking with him tonight. It'll be a takeout." Short answers. No unnecessary details.

"Alright," the man said, nodding. "Wait right here, I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Get me something stronger while I wait, yeah?"

A few minutes and a glass of Firewhiskey later, the man came back with a small package.

"Today's... well, I suppose tomorrow's special. Nothin' fancy, just some good meat."

"Thanks," Harry said and laid a few coins on the counter.

"Say, friend," the barkeeper stopped him, "you don't look like no ordinary traveler. Not many people walk around in dragon skin clothes."

Harry grinned at him, all part of the show. "Hit-wizard, at your service."

"Hit-wizard, eh? We don't see many of your kind around here."

"Maybe I'll drop by. I've got a few stories to share."

"That'd be great, mate. This job can get awfully dull sometimes."

Harry tucked the package under his arm, turned on the heel and left the pub, apparating as soon as the door closed behind him. Back in the safe house, Bellatrix was still unconscious, right where he'd left her. With a few flicks of his wand, he transfigured the broken furniture into a table and two chairs and laid out the dinner. It would aid in deceiving Bellatrix and he could use a bite himself.

He untied the ribbon from her wrist, canceled the Imperius Curse and revived Bellatrix. She looked around, dazed, trying to get up. He took her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

"You look like you're about to kick the bucket. Here, get something to eat. I don't know anything about Azkaban's menu, but this has to be better. And sorry about the fingers... you got splinched apparating."

Of course, her first instinct was to glare at him and demand his name. He sighed. Paranoid people could be such a nuisance.

He rolled up his left sleeve again, showing off the fake Dark Mark. "See? We're on the same side."

"How did... I'm supposed to be in Azkaban," she croaked out.

"There's gratitude for your valiant rescue," Harry joked. "What, would you prefer I take you back there?"

Relying more on instincts than reason, she relaxed. She didn't know who this strange man was, but he had the Mark of her master and he got her out of prison. Right now, that was enough. Seeing the food, Bellatrix sat down at the table and dug in vigorously.

"You must realize,of course, that I didn't free you just because we're both Death Eaters," he said. "I have explicit orders from Lord Voldemort."

At the mention of his name, Bellatrix stopped eating and stared at Harry, eyes alight with mad hope.

"You found him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Took me the better part of ten years," Harry said. "But yes, I did find him. He's waiting for us in Albania. A remote place, Dumbledore wouldn't think to look for him there. The Dark Lord is in need of our assistance. Whatever happened on that Halloween, it destroyed his body. He has devised a ritual to make himself a new one, but to that end, he needs the object he gave you for safekeeping."

"The cup..." she muttered. "It's in Gringotts... well protected. It would be easier to use the one he gave to Lucius."

Harry tensed up, playing the part of a loyal Death Eater.

"Lucius and his friends denounced our lord, Bellatrix," he snapped. "They didn't have the courage to stand up for their beliefs. Their family fortunes and comfortable lives were more important to them than the Dark Lord. Do you think he would ask for their help, when they didn't even try to find him? I went to all the trouble of breaking you out of Azkaban for a reason."

"Very well," she said. "But how did you escape capture? You don't look like any Death Eater I know."

"I had taken the Mark only a few weeks before Halloween," Harry lied smoothly. "I had been serving the Dark Lord for longer, but I was never formally introduced to the rest."

"Maybe I know your name," she wondered. "Who are you?"

"Jervis Mulciber," Harry said.

"Mulciber," Bellatrix repeated, as if tasting the name. "I remember a Mulciber, but it's not you..."

"You're thinking of my brother. He's been dead for ten years."

"What happened to him?"

Harry grinned darkly. "I did."

His answer must have satisfied her, because she didn't press the subject.

"Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way... Are you up to a visit in Gringotts? We shouldn't delay too long."

"Just don't run too far ahead. And I could use a change of clothes."

"I've taken care of it," Harry assured and plunged an arm into a magically expanded pocket. He placed a bundle in front of Bellatrix and pointed with his thumb over the shoulder. "You can use the adjacent room. We should get moving as soon as possible. Goblins won't rat us out immediately, but I'd rather get it done before the Ministry sends patrols to Diagon Alley."

~~oOo~~

Once Bellatrix was ready, Harry handed her the demiguise cloak and told her to follow. He had left the armor behind in the safe house – if he showed up in Gringotts decked out in battle gear, the goblins might not even let him in and he needed to keep an eye on his prisoner. She only had as much freedom at the moment as he allowed. She wouldn't live to see the morning.

He marched up Diagon Alley at a steady pace, but slowly enough that Bellatrix could keep up. So far, he hadn't seen any Aurors, but they were sure to show up soon. No doubt the Minister's cabinet had already been informed that a highly dangerous prisoner had escaped from Azkaban and she'd had outside help. Right now, the Aurors stationed at the prison had to be checking every inch in the vicinity of the empty cell number twenty-eight to get answers as to how the hell it was pulled off. Harry suspected they would probably figure out how he'd gotten in, given time. As a whole, the Auror Office weren't the sharpest bunch in the Ministry – most of them were just moderately skilled duelists, much less investigators – but they had a few people in their ranks intelligent enough to raise the average IQ by several points. One of them would dig deep enough to find the tunnel and connect the dots.

Harry didn't put it past the Minister to put the entire Auror force on high alert, at least for a few days. That could potentially affect the next steps of his plan, but he wasn't too worried. Aurors were nothing compared to Voldemort and he had dueled the Dark Lord to a draw on more than one occasion. That notwithstanding, Harry always enjoyed a challenge.

They reached the steps of the bank with no difficulties, but were stopped by the night guard at the door.

"The bank is closed, wizard," the captain spat. "Come back in the morning."

"Listen, mate, we all need our beauty sleep and Director Ragnok especially – I get it. I do," he said, grinning internally at the sight of the goblins' bared teeth. He'd always thought the vicious little fuckers were too uptight about this whole 'honor' business. "But I'm on a rather tight schedule. My friend over there," he pointed to where Bellatrix was standing and she shed the demiguise cloak, "needs to grab just one thing from her vault really quickly and then we'll be on our way."

The captain's eyes narrowed dangerously. He wouldn't dare attack, unless Harry threw the first punch.

"Rules are the same for everyone," the goblin hissed. "Come back in the morning."

Harry turned to Bellatrix.

"They may need an incentive," he whispered. "I had thought this could happen. We don't really have a choice – as fun as it sounds, we can't exactly stroll into Gringotts in broad daylight. Time is of the essence."

Bellatrix leaned in closer.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

He couldn't blame her for not understanding what he meant right away. A decade in the company of dementors was sure to blunt a person's wit.

"Goblins like gold, yes? I'm sure there are heaps of galleons in the Lestrange vault and right now, we need the cup more than money. Promise them a generous fee and they're bound to become more approachable."

She nodded and turned to the guard captain.

"I am willing to pay extra for the special service."

Harry suppressed a grin at seeing the goblins' reaction. They still looked pissed, but that didn't mean anything. Goblins always looked pissed when humans were near.

The captain seemed conflicted, no doubt having an argument with his greedy side. It took him about thirty seconds to make the obvious decision.

"Wait here," he instructed. "I'll get the Director."

Despite that success, Harry couldn't help but grow more nervous as minutes went by. Bellatrix, for her part, looked utterly calm, hiding under her cloak.

Eventually, the captain came back with another squad of guards and Director Ragnok in tow. The suit-clad goblin was above petty insult-throwing and ignored Harry's less than polite demeanor. A swift deal was struck and for a promise of a hundred galleon fee, Harry and Bellatrix were personally escorted to the vault by the Director and his four guards. The group rode two carts into the underground caverns, zipping past the rows upon rows of heavy vault doors until they arrived at one of the deepest levels. The four guards went ahead to retrieve the Clankers and force the blind dragon guarding the vaults to back up, allowing the group access.

"You're in a hurry, so let's make it quick, shall we?" Ragnok said. "The key?"

Harry made a face at the goblin. "Really? You do know who Bellatrix Lestrange is, right? Freshly out of Azkaban. Why, of course we have the key handy!"

Ragnok smirked, or at least Harry thought he did – reading goblins' facial expressions wasn't exactly easy, what with all the scars and wrinkles – and slid his clawed fingers down the middle of the door. It took a good minute for all the locks to disengage and finally the door – a solid ton of goblin-forged steel – opened slowly, revealing the Lestrange fortune. Harry's gaze stopped only briefly on the mounds of golds before setting on a small pedestal with a glass cylinder on it at the very back, where he expected the cup to be. It wasn't there.

'What the fuck', he mouthed silently. Turning to Bellatrix, he asked, "Where is it?"

She stepped in slowly, taking in the sight of her riches – she must have missed the luxurious lifestyle of a pureblood wife in that cell – and looked around, confused.

Harry's heart froze. Had she forgotten where the cup was? He didn't have time to dig through the entire vault looking for it. True, goblins loved to shit on the Ministry every chance they got, but they could only stretch they Treaty provisions so far. Any moment now, Ragnok could decide to trap them inside the vault and alert the Auror Office-

CLANG!

Harry's head snapped around just in time to see the locking mechanism begin to secure the entrance to the vault.

_Well, shit._

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he swore loudly. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out trip. No complications. For all the things he and Hermione had accounted for, they hadn't thought that the cup might not be in the same exact place in 1991 it was in 2019. It was always the little things.

He turned to glare at Bellatrix. "You're a dear, Bella, but if you don't find that cup in the next minute, I swear I'll pump you full of molten gold. The Dark Lord needs the cup more than you and I'll have an easier time getting out of here by myself."

Noting his sudden burst of anger, she swallowed loudly and began scouring the out-of-the-way hiding places, while Harry brainstormed to formulate an escape plan. Of course he was leaving Bellatrix behind – she'd just be dead weight. He didn't have his gear, which meant he didn't even have his broom. He would have to depend on his skills and his magic, which wasn't nothing, but over the years he'd gotten used to having his gear, especially his tested dragon hide armor on in combat. He was kicking himself for becoming complacent. He should've accounted for that! Idiot! Ideally, he would've needed Bellatrix for the last time later, but since he'd be visiting the Malfoys tonight anyway, he might as well use Narcissa.

Now was not the time for self-flagellation, however. The Aurors would be here any minute, which, paradoxically, was a good thing - they would help him get out of the vault. The goblins wouldn't open the door until the redcloaks arrived – why risk their own people fighting a wizard who could be Merlin knew how powerful when wizards were so eager kill each other off? Harry could, of course, try the brute force approach. Even goblin steel could only stand up to Fiendfyre for so long, but it would take ages to burn his way through. It made more sense to wait until they let him out themselves. Besides, there was a goddamn dragon on the other side of that door and goblins would have to pull it back to let the Aurors closer. The trouble was actually escaping the goblin tunnels. They were soaked with enchantments. Goblins couldn't apparate, so it made sense for them to protect themselves from this particular method of infiltration for prospective thieves. Any portkey created within the tunnels would redirect the user to a cell. The choice was between riding the cart, which only goblins could operate, flying or climbing the fuck out.

For a brief moment, Harry entertained the thought of jumping on the dragon's back and letting the beast loose.

"Sure, I can see how that would work out. Bella!" he snapped at the woman. "Have you found it?"

As he said the words, she hoisted the cup triumphantly in front of her.

"Yes," she whispered, eyes glittering. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."

"I'm sure he will," Harry agreed, snatching the cup from her hands. He strapped it to his belt and a thought struck him. "Do you have any brooms in here?"

Bellatrix pointed to a huge armoire in the corner. Harry jabbed his wand at it. The door flew open and he let out a very unmanly squeak of relief at the sight of a row of masterfully crafted brooms. He didn't recognize a single one of them – they had to be on the older side, probably older than him - but at least they looked to be in perfect working order. He picked out a sleek model, painted a brilliant silver and willed it to hover. The broom hung in the air, ready to be mounted.

"There's a silver lining to all this," he said with a chuckle. He hopped onto the broom and Bellatrix moved towards him a little hesitantly. Harry gave her a predatory grin.

"Sorry, love," he said, "but I need something to distract the Aurors. I'll tell the Dark Lord of your sacrifice."

He couldn't say he didn't enjoy fucking with her twisted little mind.

"_Imperio_."

The spell took effect easily and Bellatrix's expression became blank, her body slouched.

"Up against the door," he ordered and paid her no more attention as he removed the remaining brooms from the armoire with a quick spell and then turned his wand on the gargantuan piece of furniture itself. He was proficient with all major fields of magic, but next to dueling, he was particularly skilled in one other area.

Like father, like son. He'd learned that all Potter men had a knack for Transfiguration.

He reshaped the wardrobe into an enormous, wooden lion the size of a small car. Knowing he probably didn't have much time left, he cast a few strengthening charms on the construct before animating it – it wouldn't last long, being just another distraction, but given that Aurors would probably focus on Bellatrix, he should be able to slip through. Of course, then he'd still have to find a way out of the tunnels, but he figured he'd stick to the cart tracks and go where the air was freshest.

Finally, he levitated one of the other brooms to Bellatrix and ordered her to get on.

"On my go, fly like your broom's on fire," he gave the final instructions.

_Here's hoping these brooms aren't slow as fuck._

Just then, there was a rumble and a symphony of metallic clicking could be heard as the vault began slowly opening.

"GO!" Harry yelled at Bellatrix as soon as the door had opened widely enough. She shot forward, instantly drawing the attention of the Aurors outside. The area was lit up red as stunner after stunner left the Aurors' wands. Four of them stormed inside the vault itself. Harry downed the one at the front with a quick stunner of his own before sending forth his animated lion.

"Gryffindors ride again!" he cheered, leaning forward over the handle. The lion successfully trampled a good half dozen Aurors before the rest finally fought back. He spotted Bellatrix in the corner of his eye, locked in a desperate air ballet with the raging dragon and directed the silver broom away from the vaults, up the tunnel.

Swerving between stalactites and stalagmites, he quickly ascended through the tunnels, wand held out in front of him, ready to spout fire or produce a shield in case the Aurors had set up checkpoints.

The broom wasn't the fastest he'd ever flown, but in this particular scenario, it's low speed and high manoeuvrability worked to his advantage.

He took several wrong turns, but flying made it possible to backtrack quickly and soon he was in the upper tunnels which he recognized by the presence of more branching cart tracks. He flew further along, wary of his surroundings, until he reached one of the several doors that lined the walls of the main lobby. He had half a mind to just blast one of them off its hinges and fly into the lobby, but his years of combat experience told him not to take anything for granted. He'd already made one such mistake tonight and he sure as hell wasn't repeating it.

He cracked one of doors open just enough to peek inside the lobby and sure enough, there was another group of Aurors there, along with several squads of Gringotts' own guards. He noticed several Aurors holding brooms as well.

_No one said it would be easy._

With quick wandwork, he cleaved off a good-sized chunk of rock off the tunnel wall and split it into several smaller pieces before rearranging them to form a crude golem. It wasn't a real golem – those took considerable time and effort to create and were much more than a bunch of transfigured rocks – but, like the lion, it would serve its purpose. He would've preferred to make another one, or even two, but he had no way of knowing whether the Aurors he'd left behind had their own brooms. For all he knew, they could be on their way up right now.

He had the golem move to the door nearest to the entrance. Let them think he was going for the obvious exit route.

The golem got off to a to a running start, rammed into the door and entered the lobby with its arm lodged in the door, while Harry unleashed a bludgeoner that wasn't pulling any punches, taking his door along with the frame out of the wall. The lobby erupted into chaos – most of the Aurors focused fire on the golem, which had gone in first, their spells damaging its impromptu shield. Having blasted the other door inside the hall, Harry swept his wand arm in a wide arc, releasing a small flame of Fiendfyre to add to the confusion just as a volley of stunners from down the tunnel missed him, splashing harmlessly against granite walls.

He rocketed upward, casting another bludgeoner followed immediately by a physical shield. The first spell shattered the glass dome crowning the building and the second protected Harry from a shower of glass shards that fell, bouncing off of some hastily conjured shields.

For the second time tonight, Harry pushed his broom into a steep climb. Outside the building, the anti-apparition wards no longer affected him and once again, he apparated away mid-flight.


	4. Step Four: Diadem

**AN: **CazPeak, many thanks for your edits, I have no idea how those mistakes slipped through. I pride myself on eradicating such things before posting (usually). I guess no-one's their own best beta-reader.

**Step Four: Diadem**

Back in Knockturn, Harry made a quick decision that with all those Aurors less than a mile away, it was high time to find himself a new base of operations. As part of the preparations, he'd made a list of feasible locations to serve as his safehouse while the Grand Plan was being carried out. The abandoned property in Knockturn was the first on that list because in his past future, it had eventually become one of the Order's strongholds. If it was relatively safe sitting in the middle of Voldemort's capital, it was good enough for him in the early 1990s.

He put his gear back on and removed any signs of his presence, incinerating the remains of dinner to ash and scattering it about and reverting the spells on furniture. Lastly, he unclipped the cup from his belt and placed it into another of his many charmed pockets. The only way he could be sure the horcrux was secure was to take it with him everywhere he went. Satisfied, he blinked out of existence...

...and appeared elsewhere in Britain, in another abandoned building. This one though was a lot more special.

He observed his surroundings for a moment, sighing at the memories. The salon was the only room left in the ruined house that still had all four walls and a ceiling. Hell, the fireplace was in pretty good shape. He could probably get it linked back to Floo if he so wished.

He looked out through the dirty window, surveying the street. The area was peaceful and quiet, as one would expect in a small, tranquil town at this hour. He'd asked Ragnok for the time no more than half an hour ago, so he estimated it must be around two in the morning.

Ah, good old days. Godric's Hallow always made them pop back up. He smiled at the memories of his younger years, when he, Ron and Hermione camped out in his old home for weeks, observing Death Eater activity in the valley. The war hadn't yet escalated back then. Dumbledore was still around and as long as Harry was being trained by the best and brightest the Order had to offer, not yet able to stand up to Voldemort, the Headmaster's sheer presence was what kept the Dark Lord in check. His death was one of the biggest shocks in Harry's life – the old wizard had seemed as sturdy as a rock, he _was _the rock upon which the resistance stood.

The Order had been a mess for weeks afterwards. They were easy pickings. Death Eaters almost wiped them out. It took years to restore their numbers and by then, Voldemort had become too powerful. So, they did what they could. Harry took over leadership of the Order and continued to fight, as Hermione often remarked, with bull-headed stubbornness. She was right, of course. He was prepared to take as long as necessary if it meant that, somewhere down the line, they'd have a shot at victory, and it paid off. While not directly due to his efforts, they got their chance.

He would not screw this up. He owed it to his friends. They may not have ever existed, thanks to the time-travel shenanigans, but he was doing it for them as much as he was doing it for himself.

Cracking his knuckles, he envisioned his next destination. Yet another trip down the memory lane.

~~oOo~~

Standing on top of the Shrieking Shack, he had a pretty good view of the castle above the Forbidden Forest. It was summer holiday, so school was not in session, but even so, lights was coming out of Hogwarts' high windows. When school was out, the castle mainly served as the setting of posh summer balls so loved by the Ministry. Plus, Dumbledore loved throwing parties. He had a private home, but he rarely ever stayed there since becoming Headmaster – usually when he wanted some peace and quiet.

Harry smiled at the sight of his school. It was good to see it again. The Battle of Hogwarts made it a ruin. The Grand Staircase had been completely demolished, having been the setting of his first real duel with Voldemort. He was twenty-four at the time and, after years of training with others and studying Dark Arts on his own, he managed to keep the Dark Lord busy long enough for the junior Order members to evacuate the castle's occupants while the veterans, led by Kingsley, gave the Death Eaters hell out on the grounds. It wouldn't be until several years later, however, that he could actually duel Voldemort to a draw.

This battle had been the last in Voldemort's campaign for dominance over the Isles. Then the bastard went and rebuilt Hogwarts to his liking before making the abomination a training facility for his most elite forces. Because he had to create every Dark Mark personally, Death Eaters became a group of one hundred of his best, his go-anywhere, fight-anything unit. Whenever his regulars hit a roadblock, Voldemort sent the Death Eaters there and the problem was solved... Unless, of course, the Order was present. Thanks to their efforts, Death Eaters had a pretty high cadre rotation. By the early 2010s, barely a handful of the original old guard remained. Bellatrix, the crazy bitch, had had a particularly tight grip on life.

Harry slid off the side of the steepled roof and was back on the ground a moment later. The Shack was familiar and dusty inside. He moved away the debris masking the entrance to the secret passage.

"I sure am spending a lot of time in tunnels tonight," he said to himself.

Jogging along, he reviewed how he wanted his visit to Hogwarts to go. Obviously, the horcrux was a priority. He would need to get to the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirement was located. Seventh floor also housed the entrance to Dumbledore's office. This was a high-risk breaking an entering. Stealth would be key.

At the end of the tunnel, he crawled up carefully as far as he could without alerting the Whomping Willow to his presence. He didn't know if it would attack him – it wasn't always hostile to people coming out of the tunnel. You just never knew with that tree.

Springing to a crouched position, he rolled on the ground, coming into a quick sprint. He stopped outside of the Willow's reach and turned around to look at it. The tree shook two branches at him in a way reminiscent of a person shrugging their shoulders, as if it was trying to say 'What?'

Harry made a face at it and retrieved his Invisibility Cloak and the broom. The Cloak would hide him, but the broom would stick out underneath, so he disillusioned it. The distortion shouldn't be too big an issue with an object of that shape.

Cruising over the school grounds, Harry entertained the thought of leaving some sort of signature behind. It would be a nice touch and he could lend the Ministry a hand in their investigation, as it was doomed to fail anyway. They already knew what happened at Gringotts was connected to the Azkaban break-in and they knew there was a wizard on the loose wreaking havoc. And he wasn't even halfway done yet.

Flying over the courtyard, he saw a crowd of witches and wizards having drinks and talking. He looked into the Great Hall through one of the windows and saw more people inside. Thanks to his contact lenses, he could make out writing on the banner hanging over the staff table: ICW CONFERENCE 1991.

Ah, that's right. The Confederation convened annually in a pre-selected member country and this was Britain's turn. After a week of debating and arguing those who felt offended returned home and the rest had a party. If Harry remembered, Dumbledore had also been appointed the Supreme Mugwump this year, so tonight was a special celebration for him.

Good. He would be distracted and Harry could go about his business without interruption.

Harry flew up to the peak of the Astronomy Tower – it was the best entry point. He swore softly, seeing a pair of Aurors there. How many of them were there, anyway? He realized that, with so many VIPs present, there had to be extra security present, especially with the headache he'd given them. The party was going strong, so he suspected they must not know about Azkaban and Gringotts, or else Dumbledore would probably end the festivities for safety reasons before taking off to London.

He floated closer to the tower, aimed and cast. The stunner struck its intended target in the chest. The Auror slumped to the floor. His partner burst into action, raising his wand in Harry's general direction, where he saw the spell come from, but Harry's follow-up stunner took him out as well.

He landed on the open terrace and pocketed his broom. Then he threw the Aurors' wands over the edge and stunned them again for good measure. There were sure to be more of them patrolling – he needed to move quickly.

With his boots silenced, he descended the stairs quickly. Two flights before the end, another pair of Aurors came into his view.

_Damn. They must be coming to relieve those two upstairs, _he thought. _Nothing for it, then._

He didn't dare risk a stunner here. Even if he got one of the Aurors, the other could take cover in a niche in the wall. It was times like this he wished he'd asked Dumbledore to teach him his special area stunner.

Positioning himself directly in front of the Aurors, he cast a wide banisher which sent them flying down the stairs. Capitalizing on the element of surprise, he caught them with a pair of stunners and summoned their wands, which he tucked under his belt.

"Tonight is not a good night to be an Auror," he said. "Sorry, boys."

He cast a Disillusionment Charm over the two stunned men and shoved them in the nearest shadowed spot before resuming his prowl through the castle.

On the way to the hall where the famous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy and his ballet trolls hung, he passed yet another two-man patrol. Well, man-woman, to be precise. He gave them a wide berth, even though his boots were silenced and he was wearing the Cloak. Better safe than sorry.

He performed the required routine of walking three times in front of the wall opposite the tapestry, wishing for the Room of Hidden Things. Like a charm, the door appeared and he went inside.

He silently thanked whatever forces were watching over him. He hadn't been in the Room of Hidden Things in fifteen years and he'd forgotten how enormous it was. Enough space to fit in a cathedral and all of it was was filled with discarded items. There were literal mountains of junk in here. Voldemort had hidden his horcruxes well, but they found out about them far too late. The diadem and Slytherin's locket were the only two they ever managed to get their hands on and only because they were in Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place, respectively. He roughly remembered where the diadem was. He could't imagine having to search the place blindly looking for it.

Well, one way he could think of would be to unleash Fiendfyre and let it burn everything, but it would probably damage the Room beyond repair. The horcrux would perish in the fire. Problem solved. Luckily, he didn't have to resort to such drastic measures.

An hour and one destroyed furniture hill later, he had the second of the Dark Lord's horcruxes in his possession. He placed in a pocket with the cup and made for the exit.

_Two down, three to go._

Unfortunately, he had forgotten to put the Invisibility Cloak back on when he was leaving the Room.

"Sir?" an unfamiliar voice asked. Harry wanted to slap himself in the face. Figuratively, of course.

"Yes?" he asked back, turning to face the Auror patrol he'd passed previously.

"Is everything alright? Shouldn't you be at the party?"

"I was just in the loo," he lied quickly.

The Auror seemed skeptical. "On the seventh floor?"

Harry guessed it was the man's job to be suspicious towards strangers lurking in shadows when warlocks of the ICW were in the same building, even if the building was the size of Hogwarts.

"I think I might have gotten a bit lost, actually," Harry said and gave an apologetic smile. "If you could show me how to get downstairs..."

The Auror answered after a moment, "Of course, sir. Please follow- wait, what is that?"

When Harry stepped into the light cast by the nearest torch, the Aurors saw his armor – apparently, combat gear wasn't the theme of the evening - and immediately whipped out their wands. Harry sighed and raised his arms above his head.

"Is that dragon hide?" one of the Aurors asked. "I dunno about you, Ribs, but I think we should contact the Office."

"Sir, please state your name," the first Auror requested.

"Actually, we might have a bit of a problem here," Harry replied. "I'm sure we can resolve this peacefully. If you could just lower your wands... and turn around..."

"Ribs, to hell with protocol," the other Auror argued. "We have the entire ICW downstairs and this guy looks ready to go to war. If he's not here to target the warlocks, I'll eat my shoes. Let's just stun him and call up the Office."

"Do you want a side dish with that?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"For your shoes," Harry explained. "Because, believe it or not, I'm not here to target anyone."

"Bullshit," the Auror snapped. "Ribs, get his wand."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I have not taken any hostile action. No need to be rude."

"_Expelliarmus_!" Ribs said, but nothing happened.

"His holster must be jinxed to prevent disarming. You! Get down, face to the ground."

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asked politely. "If you would just show me to the nearest window, I'll be on my way."

Harry wasn't at all surprised when Dumbledore showed up. Honestly, he'd stopped breaking his head over the man's tricks years ago.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" the Headmaster asked. Then his gaze fell on Harry. "A-ha. I see."

Thank Merlin he'd decided to grow a beard as part of his preparations. He looked much like his father, although the resemblance wasn't there to see at first glance, considering that Harry was almost twice James' age when he died. That way, he hoped, Dumbledore wouldn't recognize him, at least not right away.

"You seem to be dressed for a different kind of party than the one we're having downstairs, Mr..."

"I would prefer to remain anonymous, if that's alright," Harry said.

The Headmaster was benevolence personified. "I understand, but I'm afraid I must insist. Surely you understand that this entire situation is a bit suspicious."

Harry's whole body was tense, ready to spring into action and when the tiniest opportunity presented itself, he seized it.

"Professor Dumbledore, I've contacted the Auror Office and received some very troubling-"

The Headmaster's eyes turned to Ribs and that was when Harry moved.  
He threw himself bodily into a roll, pulling out his wand. Coming back to a standing position, he cast a bludgeoner at the three men blocking his way. Ribs's partner managed to raise a shield, but it didn't hold up against Harry's spell. Fortunately for Ribs, who was too distracted to shield himself, Dumbledore protected them both.

Harry then opted for what had become his signature spell and the reason why Death Eaters feared him so much. Fiendfyre obeyed him eagerly and a wall of flame filled the hall, rushing forward. Unsurprisingly, the Headmaster extinguished it in record time, but Harry wasn't slowing down. He knew he needed to keep cranking up the gears and not let up, because Dumbledore wouldn't miss an opportunity to turn tables on him.

Lightning-quick, he cast a Deafening Charm on himself and shut his eyes before letting loose with a spell he'd invented himself.

The Flashbang Hex, as he'd named it, was nothing revolutionary. It was essentially the magical equivalent of a muggle flashbang grenade, only magic was, in this case, an order of magnitude more powerful.

The flash of light was so potent it still affected him through closed eyelids, but he didn't even want to imagine the hurt it put on his unsuspecting opponents.

Torches cast only dim light, so everyone's pupils would be dilated and that ensured maximum damage. Harry had extra protection in the form of his enchanted lenses and he was willing to bet large sums of money that Dumbledore's glasses weren't just there to help him read. It was likely the flash wouldn't have any effect at all on the elder wizard, but it was reasonable to suspect the bang would hit him.

The Deafening Charm had done its job of preventing the soundwaves from reaching his ears, so Harry dispelled it quickly. The two Aurors were on the ground, bleeding from their ears and screaming. Dumbledore had slumped against a wall, similarly injured and seemed confused, but Harry wasn't about to wait for him to get back up. He was sure the Headmaster would fix his ears and be in pursuit much too soon for Harry's liking anyway.

Throwing a few more random spells behind him, he sprinted down the hallway until he came to a corner and once again looked to his trusty broom to carry him to safety. Hopping onto it, he located the nearest window, blew it up with a blasting hex and shot outside and then was speeding straight up. Having taken off from the seventh floor, up was the quickest way to get beyond the castle's wards so he could apparate.

Climbing fast, he thought, _Third time in a row. What are the odds?_

But he'd forgotten he was in Albus Dumbledore's domain. Perhaps yards away from mission success, the broom jerked violently to the side and changed course against his wish.

Dumbledore, wand raised and face grim stood atop the Astronomy Tower, pulling Harry's broom towards himself.

_Oh shitshitshitshitshit-_

He didn't have long, so he trusted his instincts, made a split-second decision and fell off the broom.

As he rapidly gained speed, Harry's brain was working overtime to find a way not to die and escape. Arresto Momentum was out of the question. Slowing down would make him an easier target for the Headmaster. He couldn't apparate and he wasn't motherfucking Fly-Without-A-Broom Lord Voldemort-

"_ARRESTO MOMENTUM_!"

Oh, why was he bothering, anyway, when the good Headmaster did it for him.

Next thing he knew, Harry was shooting through the air back towards the Astronomy Tower. Flying upside down, with no control over his movement was disorienting, but Harry was used to performing under less than ideal circumstances. As he flew by the Tower to its top, he summoned a fragment of its circular wall.

Hanging by the ankle, Harry grinned at the elder wizard.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Dumbledore said dryly.

"Let's keep this party going!" Harry yelled, a little drunk on adrenaline. That was when his improvised wrecking ball appeared over the edge, barrelling straight for them.

Dumbledore flung Harry out of the way and diverted the chunk of the tower enough for it to crash into the part where neither of them was. Harry jumped to his feet and spun towards the Headmaster.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

Like Fiendfyre, also quite deadly, it was nothing more than a distraction. He had enough general intent to kill to be able to cast it at the man he had no desire to murder. It forced the Headmaster to conjure himself a makeshift shield. Harry used that precious time to run to the opposite edge of the terrace and jump over the handrail.

He pointed his wand over the shoulder and released another cloud of Fiendfyre, hoping that the raging Cursed Flame would take priority in Dumbledore's eyes before pointing at himself.

"_Arresto Momentum_!" he cried and began slowing down.

He cast the spell a moment too late and hit the ground, hard.

"Owww," he moaned, rolling onto his back and immediately regretted opening his mouth. It hurt like hell. He must have broken his jaw, but there was no time to fix it right now.

He scrambled to his feet, blessing his armor. It had absorbed most of the impact. He looked around wildly. He was at the feet of the Astronomy Tower and could see the lake from here. He needed to get the hell out of here and Dumbledore was on his tail. Not to mention the Headmaster could apparate on castle grounds.

He was royally screwed. All because he'd forgotten to put the goddamn Cloak back on.

_The Cloak!_

It wasn't a Deathly Hollow for nothing. Few other artifacts or spells could hide a person like Ignotus Peverell's Invisibility Cloak did. Harry disappeared under it just as Dumbledore apparated not ten feet from him.

_Still not an ideal situation, but I can work with that._

Right now, he had the upper hand by virtue of being a lot younger than the Headmaster and invisible.

He pointed his wand to his left and silently levitated a small stone a foot into the air before letting it fall. Dumbledore's head turned away from him and Harry lunged.

Fighting dirty was the only way for him to win right now. He could probably match Dumbledore in a duel, but there had to be more Aurors present on the grounds. A duel would draw their attention and Harry didn't think they'd be courteous enough to not get involved.

Fighting wizards of Dumbledore and Voldemort's caliber was hard work. He had no delusions about placing himself on the same shelf with them. While he could safely say he was probably one of the best duelists in the world, both the Headmaster and the Dark Lord were much more than that. They were masters of disciplines most wizards and witches didn't even know existed. He was a soldier, trained for one purpose only - fighting.

He tackled Dumbledore to the ground, knocking his wand from his hand and shoved his own into the man's stomach.

The stunner knocked the Headmaster out cold. Harry flicked his wand to summon his broom, banking on the fact that Dumbledore had cared more about capturing him than destroying his broom. If it had fallen, hopefully the spells held and it was in one piece.

Fate must be operating on seesaw rules tonight, because luck smiled on Harry again. His broom came flying to him, intact. Casting the last glance at Dumbledore, he placed the two wands he'd taken from two Aurors by his side and took off, zipping low over the lake, away from the castle.


	5. Step Five: Diary

**Step Five: Diary**

Safely back at Godric's Hollow, Harry first tended to his jaw. He had a decent pain threshold, but he much preferred not being injured. Those things never ended well. Someone would bump their sore arm and give away their position just before the enemy walked into the range of the ambush... Okay, maybe he shouldn't still hold that against Ron. It was just one time, and it was meaningless now anyway. He took a deep breath and tapped his face with his wand.

"God-_dammit_!" he yelled, as the injury healed with a loud crunch. He hated the Bone-Mending Charm with a fiery passion, all the more because it was the one healing spell he had cared to master. It was a necessity, really, for anyone who spent their life fighting Death Eaters. The Charm worked wonders on broken bones, but it did so in an excessively painful way. Harry was convinced its inventor must have been a sadist who designed the spell to be painful to discourage people from breaking bones in the first place. Hermione would always complain that not learning a few other basic healing spells was infinitely stupid of Harry, to which he would respond that there was no need for healing if he didn't allow himself to be hit. As one could expect from Ron, who avoided learning anything that wasn't absolutely critical, he backed Harry up on this.

Harry fumbled inside one of his pockets for a vial of Invigoration Draught. He was tough, but with everything that had happened, the night was beginning to take its toll on him. He downed the entire dose and checked that both horcruxes were secure while he waited for the potion to take effect. When that second wind kicked in, his mouth curled into a dangerous grin. The next step should be a cakewalk, compared to the last one.

It was time to pay an old friend a visit.

~~oOo~~

He had to admit, he was the tiniest bit nervous about this step. With Hermione and Ron, there would have been no problem – they would have had each other to fall back on if someone said something stupid. Now, though, he would have to hold Lucius' attention long enough to be able to get inside the house... Harry wasn't the best actor. That's why he fought battles while Hermione would go undercover for months at a time.

It would be a really short con.

Harry apparated in front of the main gate. It was iron-wrought, high and properly intimidating. A typical snobbish, pureblood estate.

He pushed it open and started walking up the wide gravel path. If Lucius happened to be awake, he already knew someone was coming. Otherwise, Harry would need to knock on the door. Wards would prevent him from entering without an invitation. Malfoy Manor was one of the last few remaining estates with such protections. Even at Hogwarts anyone could get inside the castle without difficulty. Hell, the Ministry was accessible enough!

Lucius, as it turned out, had been awake.

The once future general of Lord Voldemort's legions apparated in front of Harry, wand in hand.

"Lucius," Harry said, smiling wolfishly. "It's good to see you. Pity the Dark Lord won't share this sentiment."

There was a striking contrast between the two wizards. Lucius looked - well, like a wizard. His high quality robes managed to be practical and meet the latest fashion standards at the same time. Harry's appearance, with his rather crudely cut clothes and armor, and a distinct lack of a cape, was gruff and militaristic.

"My sister-in-law escapes Azkaban, aided by an unknown wizard," Lucius said. "They are then almost captured in Gringotts, but the wizard escapes."

"Yes, quite and exciting night, isn't it?" said Harry, grinning widely.

"Aurors came to my house to question me," Lucius continued in dangerous tones. "And mere minutes ago I found out that the same wizard, or someone who looked exactly like him, has had a run-in with the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"And what does that tell you?" Harry asked matter-of-factly.

"Since it appears you are the mysterious troublemaker in question, your presence here is consistent with an emerging pattern."

"I'm dying to hear your theory."

"You have an agenda... one that has something to do with the Dark Lord," Lucius finished.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You work fast," he said. "How much extra did you have to pay in bribes to get a transcript of Bella's interrogation so fast?"

"Considering what you have taken from Gringotts, I think I can guess what brings you to my house."

"Marvelous. It saves us time. I am acting on orders from the Dark Lord himself. Bring me the book and I'll be on my way," Harry said. "You can expect a summons within a few days. I suggest you find a good explanation for why you haven't even tried to find him."

"You can stop pretending now," Lucius replied. "I know for a fact that you're not Jervis Mulciber."

Harry shrugged. "Hey, it got me this far. Now, be a good little lapdog and bring me the book."

_I'll find your wife myself._

"You must think you can threaten me into cooperation," Lucius sneered. "I assure you, I have no intention of helping you. Whatever your goals, this is the end of your adventure."

"What makes you say that?"

Lucius disapparated and Harry threw himself to the left. Malfoy probably left or apparated behind him.

Harry noticed the pressure of the anti-apparition ward disappear. A series of cracks resounded and a group of Aurors surrounded him, immediately casting stunners. Harry's split-second shield deflected the spells, barely, but the Aurors wasted their chance. He could make a tactical retreat and-

The ward snapped back into place, followed by Lucius. Master of the Manor could apparate in spite of it, much like the Headmaster could at Hogwarts.

"You are under arrest!" one of the Aurors shouted. "Surrender and you will not be harmed."

Still protected by his shield, Harry stared at Lucius. The Death Eater couldn't curse him with law enforcement around.

_Okay, I guess the undercover part is really over now. New plan._

"You're one sly fox, Lucius, I'll give you that."

"Gentlemen," Malfoy said, "would you kindly arrest this man?"

"Is that how you treat old friends?" Harry asked loudly. "It's been a few years, but I'd never have thought you'd turn on me like that. We used to serve the Dark Lord together, remember?"

The Aurors' eyes started darting between Harry and Lucius. One even angled his wand more in the Death Eater's direction.

"What is he talking about?" one of them asked. "Mr. Malfoy-"

"Shut up, Shins!" the unit commander ordered. "We are not here to-"

Harry discretely sneaked two fingers toward his belt, where he had something just for the occasion...

_That's right. Look at him, not me._

"I always wondered how you managed to talk your way out of Azkaban, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised – if anyone could sell that bullshit Imperius defense, it's you."

The Aurors were now openly casting suspicious looks at Malfoy, who, nevertheless, wouldn't be baited.

"I have no idea what you're going on about, man," he said.

The object now in his hand, Harry prepared himself for imminent chaos.

"You boys never learn."

The vial of oily liquid smashed on the ground and there was darkness.

~~oOo~~

Like most of the Order's toys, the Instant Darkness Solution had been Hermione's invention. Come to think of it, half of their operations depended on having her on their side.

An upgrade of the Peruvian Darkness Powder, the Solution created a cloud of coal-black smoke in the immediate area. Hermione paired it with a specially charmed vial, turning the whole thing into the first ever magical grenade. Smash it, and the potion was released, obscuring the vision of anyone in the vicinity. One of the obvious drawbacks was friendly fire, but that was easily resolved with an appropriate charm. Usually though, the instant darkness was enough of a distraction to provide an edge. Before the enemy cast the spell, the Order would already be onto them.

But that wasn't all the potion did. It wasn't a potion for nothing. Even if you could see, the smoke would still choke you to death. A Bubble-Head Charm solved that problem quite nicely. Or, if you didn't have time to cast it, you could just hold you breath.

Harry hit the ground, predicting correctly that Aurors would attempt to catch him with a lucky shot. He rolled forward, narrowly missing one of them and broke into a sprint.

Outside the smoke cloud, he brandished his wand and cast a bludgeoner, then another, grinning when he heard surprised cries. He could just unleash Fiendfyre, but with the smoke still in the air, it would likely kill someone and he saw no reason to slaughter Aurors who just did their jobs. Or tried to.

Lucius had no doubt apparated away, which meant Harry didn't have a lot of time. Fortunately, he was only a few dozen yards away from the building.

He flew across Lucius' neatly manicured lawn and up the front stairs. He hammered on the door, mindful of his surroundings. The Aurors were beginning to take stock of the situation. One was assisting a downed partner – poor sod must have stayed in the smoke too long. If they got him to St. Mungo's quickly enough, he would live. It took a while for the potion to actually kill.

"MALFOY!" Harry roared. "Get the fuck out or I'll burn your whole house down!"

Technically, he could do that, given enough time. Fiendfyre was a very powerful spell. In this case though, Harry hoped the threat would be enough.

When Lucis didn't appear after three seconds and the door was still locked, Harry decided he couldn't wait any longer.

"Hard way it is," he growled.

Truth be told, he was improvising. He hadn't considered the possibility of Lucius going to the Aurors for help.

_Speaking of Aurors..._

The six that had arrived were still scattered, which made them easy targets.  
Harry threw on the Cloak and sprinted back towards them.

"_Depulso_!"

The banisher sent one of the Aurors flying back into the dissipating smoke. Unable to apparate, but invisible to his opponents, Harry turned his wand on another unsuspecting victim.

A stunner caught the commanding Auror in the face. A Body-Bind took care of another. Stunner. Damn! This one got a shield off. Well, Harry had just the spell for it.

"_Tonare_!"

Dumbledore had taught him that few other spells could strain and break shields as effectively as the Bludgeoning Hex.

The Auror was pushed back a few steps, his shield barely holding. Another stunner shattered it and knocked the man out.

The last two Aurors were nowhere to be seen. Harry guessed the young looking one – Shins, was it? - portkeyed his unconscious colleague away. That also meant that he could come back with reinforcements at any moment.

Harry summoned back the Auror he'd banished seconds ago.

"Move!" he barked, prodding his hostage with the wand. Once they were close enough to the house, he yelled, "Lucius! Come out, unarmed, with your hands raised, or I'll hurt the Auror. Surely you won't make the man suffer for your stubbornness?"

Lucius' magically amplified voice spoke then, "_YOU WON'T KILL HIM. YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT EARLIER_."

"Who said anything about killing?" Harry mocked. "True, I prefer not leave a trail of dead bodies if I don't have to, but I could cut off an arm... or two. And believe me, I know curses powerful enough to make sure Skele-Gro won't help him."

"Sir, listen-" the Auror began, but Harry grabbed him by the neck and squeezed.

"Shut up, or I'll start with your tongue," Harry snapped.

There was no guarantee Lucius would comply. In fact, Harry feared he would need to actually burn his way into the manor – Malfoy had no legal obligation to put himself at risk to save an Auror and the Wizengamot, riddled with purebloods as it was, would dismiss the issue if the issue was even raised. Aurors knew what they were signing up for when joining the ranks.

When no answer came after several more seconds, Harry decided he had to make good on his threat.

"You're right-handed?"

"What?" the Auror asked, confused.

"Am I speaking in Gobbledygook? _Are you right-handed_?"

"Y-yes."

"You may not believe me, but I'm very sorry for what I'm about to do."

"Wait! What do you- AAHHHH!"

Snape's signature cutting curse severed the man's left hand at the wrist. Without the countercurse, he wouldn't be getting it back.

"Malfoy, I'm going to count to five. Then I'm going to introduce your home to Fiendfyre! One... Two... Three-four-five!"

_Alright, kid gloves are off._

Harry stunned the now one-handed Auror and let him fall on the ground. He raised his wand, ready to unleash the Cursed Flame yet again...

At the sound of apparition behind him, he threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding whatever curse Malfoy had cast. He threw up a shield, saving himelf from another and got back to his feet.

_He wouldn't come out unless he felt he had the advantage. More Aurors must be on the way, which means he's likely to drop the anti-apparition ward at any moment..._

He blocked another attack and, using his momentum, spun out of the way of Malfoy's next spell. He flicked his wand, sending forth a bludgeoner. Malfoy didn't risk shielding, instead choosing to apparate several yards to the side. Harry grinned seeing Malfoy's gritted teeth and sweat pouring down his face – few wizards could comfortably apparate multiple times in short periods of time and Malfoy, for all his skill, just wasn't in that league.

"_Serpensortia_!"

A twelve-foot cobra landed between the two wizards. Harry willed the snake to advance on Malfoy and immediately snapped off a Blood-Burning Curse, forcing his opponent to dodge. Harry didn't actually count on the conjured snake to do anything – it was a distraction. Every skilled duelist had their own style. Harry forced his enemies to react to multiple threats at once.

He cast an Exploding Hex at the ground near Malfoy, setting a small area on fire and shielded against another curse before responding with his own, followed by two more. While Malfoy blocked his spells and dealt with the cobra, Harry conjured as much water as he could in four seconds and willed the miniature tsunami to charge his opponent. Mindful that water would not stop any spells, he put up a shield, saving his guts from being sprayed all over by the characteristic Entrails-Expelling Curse that crashed into it. Dragon hide provided excellent protection against most spells, but without the dragon's innate magic strengthening it, powerful Dark magic would cut through his armor like paper.

Malfoy banished the water at the burning ground, taking care of two problems at once and turned his wand on the snake, but by the time he got rid of it, Harry had closed the distance between them to mere twenty feet.

Malfoy clearly did not expect this. Caught by surprise, he slowed down for a moment that Harry had used to cast one of those spells that could literally hand you a victory on a silver platter.

The Blinding Curse zipped forward and struck Malfoy square in the face. Instinct took over and Malfoy yelled in pain, dropped his wand and slapped both hands over his rapidly swelling eyes.

"End of line, Lucius," Harry said. "_Imperio_."

Distracted by his sudden blindness, Malfoy easily succumbed to Harry's control.

"_Finite_," Harry incanted, waving his wand. The swelling receded, returning Malfoy's vision. "Give me the ring."

Malfoy took off the large family sigil and handed it over. It was a signet ring made of polished chrome-colored metal, with the Malfoy Family crest pressed into it. The Family Ring was what made a wizard the Master of the House, but since it could be taken or lost, it was deemed a danger and only a few pureblood families adhering to old traditions still used them.

"Thank you," Harry said, slipping the ring on. Now he could enter the manor itself and apparate on the grounds. Things were back on the right track.

He gripped Lucius' shoulder and apparated them both into the salon. He had only been inside Malfoy Manor once, years ago, but he remembered the large room where Bellatrix had tortured Hermione before they were whiskey away to safety by Dumbledore himself, who had led the Order in an attack.

"Now, bring me the Voldemort's diary. And hurry up."

Lucius scurried off to fulfill his orders while Harry turned his attention to the ring.

"Where is Narcissa?" he demanded of the object.

He got his answer sooner than he had expected. Whatever spell it was that hit him, his armor blocked it, probably saving his life, but he was still thrown across the room.

He crashed heavily into a grandfather clock, vaguely registering that there was something wrong with his nose.

"Ooooow..."

"Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" Lady Malfoy asked coldly.

Harry rolled onto his back, coming face to tip with Narcissa's wand. He cursed mentally. Hermione would have killed him herself if she could see him now. Perhaps claims of his recklesness weren't that exaggerated...

"Mother?" a young voice asked. Harry hadn't heard it in years, but it was oh so familiar.

"Draco, get back to your ro-"

Narcissa knew some tricks, but she wasn't her sister. Bellatrix had always been a better fighter. She would never take her eyes off the enemy, especially at this distance.

_Thank you, Draco, _Harry thought with a wolfish grin. He kicked off of the wall, legs swinging. Narcissa, deprived of balance, fell onto her back just as Harry sprang to his feet. He kicked her wrist, knocking away the wand. He then picked up his own and promptly stunned the woman.

"Phew," he said. "That was close."

He turned to Draco. The boy was staring at him with an expression of shock.  
"Cheers, kid." Harry winked at him and jabbed his wand, stunning the son next to his mother.

Lucius came back then, carrying Tom Riddle's tattered diary. Harry took it and returned the Family Ring to the man.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said, kneeling next to Narcissa. He grasped her wrist delicately and ended the Imperius Curse on Lucius.

"What happened... _You_!"

The Death Eater went for his wand a second too late.

"_Confringo_!" snarled Lucius. The curse leapt from his wand...

...and splashed harmlessly against the floor. The intruder escaped. With Narcissa.

The front door was blasted open and Aurors poured in.

"Where is he?" the commander yelled. "Malfoy, _where'd he go_?"

"Merlin," another Auror said. "This is _nuts_."

"Scrimgeour needs to see this," the commander decided. "Whatever this guy was after, I hope he's done for tonight."

"He's not," Lucius replied, seething, eyes wild. "_He took my wife_."

"...fuck."


	6. Step Six: Ring

**Step Six: Ring**

"What do you want? Money?" Narcissa demanded.

"Darling, if I ever need money, I'll just break into Gringotts again and steal from goblins," Harry said. "I might do that anyway. Those little pricks could use a lesson in humility."

"What then? Lucius will give you anything you want for my _safe_ return," Lady Malfoy said, emphasizing the word 'safe'.

"You don't get it, do you?" Harry asked. "If I had wanted something else from Lucius, I would have just taken in when he was under my Imperius Curse. It was _you_ I needed. Well, you were the secondary objective, I wanted the book first and foremost. And I would've used Bellatrix, but I was forced to abandon her in Gringotts, so... here you are."

At that revelation, Narcissa paled noticeably. Harry could almost see gears turning in her head, churning out possible explanations for why he might need her, each one more frightening than the last one...

"I can tell you'd hate to be left guessing, so let me assure you that I'm not going to rape you or anything. My morals are questionable, but I have them," Harry said. "I'm not _planning_ on killing you, but things happen very fast sometimes. If I stumble upon another dragon, I sure as hell won't be the bait."

When Narcissa started shrieking in terror, Harry grimaced and cast a Silencing Charm. Even restrained by conjured ropes, she still struggled when he pressed her throat with his thumb – a useful trick, if you wanted to make a person swallow something – and poured the contents of another vial into her open mouth. The Draught of Living Death quickly put the woman to sleep. It was one of several doses he had on his person. Hermione, bless her humorless soul, had insisted they pack spares just in case.

With Narcissa secured, he cast a quick spell to fix his nose and a sharp pang of pain later he was ready for the next step of the plan. He went out to the now wildly overgrown garden and stood in silence for a moment, watching the sun rise from beyond the horizon. The night had ended and the approaching day was shaping up to be no less busy.

~~oOo~~

Harry apparated not far from the Gaunt house, in a forest clearing. Both the house and the path leading to it had been old even before Voldemort's grandfather was born – Slytherin's descendants had lived here for centuries. The narrow trail connecting the house with the clearing had been grown over by young trees and bushes, but he found it with little difficulty, having scouted out the area with Ron a few weeks ago. In the future, Voldemort had abandoned his ancestral home – both that and the muggle one – leaving it to fall into ruin. Only it didn't. After all those years, his spells remained strong, keeping the building from collapsing into itself. The house was one of the most ingenious traps Voldemort had ever designed – unless you absolutely knew what you were doing, you _would_ end up dead at some point. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but not in this case.

He strolled forward, allowing himself to relax a little. If he – well, Hermione – was right, Dumbledore hadn't started putting together the pieces of the puzzle yet. While the Headmaster most likely knew about the place already, he had no reason to suspect Harry would come here.

Then again, he'd been sure Malfoy Manor would be a piece of cake too.

He jogged the rest of the way.

Coming out in front of the dilapidated house, he cast a look left and right. Coast clear. He walked up to a group of tightly packed trees and cut the twisted roots away with a quick spell. There. Among the trees lay one of the five keystones to which the wards surrounding the house were anchored. It was hidden by more than just vegetation – an illusion, another invention of Riddle's, made it impossible to see except by those who already knew it was there. Such a small secret, but the price for learning it had been too high. Only a few core Death Eaters were in the know about Voldemort's horcruxes. Well, their locations. The Dark Lord wasn't stupid; sharing the secret of immortality would have been a supremely idiotic thing to do. In the Order, only Harry knew all the details, although he suspected Hermione had figured out what he had omitted years ago.

They'd had to lure one of Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters out from his personal headquarters. In a weird reversal of roles, Harry had been the one trying to gather information so that a small team could infiltrate the place. Hermione's patience eventually runt out and she went behind his back, sending out some of their best men into field as bait. It had worked, but Harry lost many soldiers that day. He spent the next several weeks alternating between stalking around the Headquarters like an angry velociraptor and conducting one-man raids on even the tiniest, most insignificant enemy outposts he could find and snapping at anyone who dared approach him about an operation involving more than two people.

The wards themselves were the work of Voldemort and nothing short of brilliant. There were no backdoors for a skilled Curse-Breaker to exploit. It would take the synchronized efforts of two Bill Weasleys and anywhere from three to six hours to bring them down. The wards didn't prevent you from stepping closer, but you would be dead before reaching the front door.

But that wasn't what made this place so dangerous. They wards were, in fact, very easily taken care of, in you knew what to do, because while Voldemort didn't leave any backdoors, he must have built in an opening of some kind in case he needed to remove the horcrux quickly.

Harry pointed his wand at the keystone. Of course, not just any wizard could use this shortcut even if they knew about it. Voldemort had taken great care to make the keystones impervious to almost all magic. Only one spell could affect them in any way and it wasn't easy to cast or control.

But Harry wasn't Voldemort's equal for nothing.

"_Az-reth_!"

Fiendfyre poured from his wand in a torrent of hell-hot flames, clawing at the stone. Harry kept it up for a minute, aiming to melt the rock into goo.

"_Finite_."

He ended the spell to observe the fruit of his work. He was a little surprised that he hadn't felt the wards fail...

"Shit."

The ground around the keystone was scorched black, never to bear life again. The stone itself, however, was unblemished. He carefully stepped closer and inch by inch, touched the rugged texture.

Cold as... well, as stone.

"Right," he said, thinking out loud. "I know for a fact that the keystone can only be destroyed with Fiendfyre. I used Fiendfyre. Result: the stone is intact. Conclusion? Fuck if I know."

Then he remembered something. Voldemort and Dumbledore, dueling in the Ministry, way back in 1996. Wasn't there Fiendfyre involved? Ah...

Say what you will about Voldemort, but he was a genius when it came to magic.

Harry stepped back and raised both his arms. He'd only done this once before.

This time, he willed the Cursed Flame to take shape. He elongated it, gave it a mouth and sharpened its fangs. The fiery basilisk reared its head.

Harry slashed down with his wand and the magical construct dived. The keystone shattered, showering him with rubble. The noticeable magical discharge informed him of success.

It was enough to destroy any of the five anchors and the wards collapsed as if they weren't there, and when whoever was trying to get inside finally dealt with the wards in whatever way, the trap was set.

When they stepped over the threshold, the trap was sprung.

As soon as the intruder was inside, a different set of wards, subtle and almost unnoticeable to anyone not specifically looking for them, quietly put in place anti-apparition and anti-portkey jinxes. The doors were shut and windows reinforced, effectively trapping the intruder inside. In all honesty, it wouldn't be that hard to kick the door out of the frame and get out, but people tend to forget the obvious when fear and adrenaline run high.

The 'meat' of the trap was something entirely different, though.

During his travels, Voldemort had rediscovered knowledge that many had shelved away as lost and irretrievable. Among them was the secret of nullifying runes.

Powered by them, a nullifying field was a wizard's worst nightmare – it rendered any and all magic useless. Every room inside the Gaunt house was equipped with a set of those runes. Such a field literally doused out all magic within its boundaries, no exceptions. If Albus Dumbledore were to walk inside at this moment, he would become nothing more than an old man.

Even though Harry knew what was coming, it still made him keel over as his magic was rendered useless. Oh, it was still there – it just _felt_ as if it had been taken from him. Not a pleasant feeling. He could only imagine what shock would do to an unsuspecting victim.

He stumbled across the room, to where he knew the master rune was concealed. Prying the plank off, he tore it from the floor. The rune was inscribed on the other side.

The rune could only be destroyed magically, which meant he had to get outside. A simple door wasn't going to stop him. Still, finding enough strength to kick it down, even as rotten as it was, proved surprisingly difficult when he felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, curl into a fetal position and die.

He lumbered outside and gasped as he crossed the border of the field. Now that the master rune was outside the field itself, it would start deteriorating and eventually disappear, but it would take several minutes. A quick explosive hex obliterated the plank and the rune with it.

Of course, the nullifying field still wasn't the actual trap. Hundreds and then thousands of carnivorous insects began crawling from beneath the floorboards and a few were already making their way up his legs, looking for an unprotected patch of skin to dig into.

And then there were fumes of poison being released into the air.

Harry fumbled for his breathing apparatus – it would filter out the poison. He rushed back inside, stomping on the killer-bugs. Confident hat his dragon hide pants would protect him from heat, he cast a simple Incendio, but let the flames flow freely, incinerating the insects as they came.

Now free from them – for the moment, at least – and the airborne poison, he could finally get to work.

A bludgeoner tore open the floorboards in the middle of the room. He worked quickly to unearth the small metal case he knew to be hidden there, unwary of the fact that fire from his previous spell had caught on to the wooden structure of the ruined house and flames were now licking the walls. He fled the building just as the third wave of insects reached him, crawling up his legs again. He flicked his wand, burning the devilish things to ash.  
Then he noticed a dozen Aurors standing in a half-circle, pointing their wands directly at him.

"Drop your wand!" one of them demanded. "And keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Damn," Harry swore quietly. In truth, he shouldn't be surprised they found him. The Ministry could have tuned their detectors to Fiendfyre, considering he used it rather liberally. It wasn't a great leap of logic to make that he'd use it again at some point.

"Drop your wand! I will not ask you again!"

Harry raised his arms. His wand fell on the grass along with the case containing the Peverell ring.

"Hello, everyone," he said, stepping forward. "No need to be hostile. I'm coming peacefully, see?"

"Stay where you are!" the Auror shouted. "_Accio_." Harry's wand and treasure shot into the man's hands.

"Am I under arrest, or what?" He took another step forward. _Just a bit further..._

That was when he felt a mighty bite.

"AAARRGH!" he yelled, grabbing his neck. His fingers closed around something small and moving. It was a bright red beetle. He looked down and saw a centipede working its way up his boot. _Oh come on, not_ now...

"What are you doing? I said don't move!"

"Sorry, but I've got a bit of a bug problem, mate!"

He dropped the beetle, swiped the centipede away and crushed both under his heel.

"Right, where was I?" he asked no one in particular.

"For the last time-"

"Oh, yes. That."

He'd moved far away from the house that he was outside the anti-apparition ward. He reappeared behind the Auror who'd summoned his wand to see two spells cross the space where he'd been standing a split second before.

He lashed out with a low kick, but its effectiveness was diminished by the Auror's long robes and he only managed to unbalance them both. Seeing the other Aurors turn in his direction, he apparated again.

The two of them landed in a heap in the demolished Potter home, next to the unconscious Narcissa. The Auror obviously recognized her.

"What the-"

Harry used the man's momentary distraction to deliver a kick to his jaw, breaking it with a crunch. Now preoccupied with the injury, the Auror didn't notice Harry scramble to his feet and take back his wand.

"_Obliviate_!"

He was prepared to apparate himself and the Auror somewhere where he'd be found, until it occurred to him that the metal case with the horcrux wasn't here.

"Oh, that's just perfect."

He braced himself for another apparition and landed in the middle of the group of Aurors. A few of them were busy dealing with the still approaching insects, but the rest noticed him right away.

"HE'S HERE! GET HIM!"

On instinct, Harry fell flat as half a dozen spells flew overhead. Realizing his disadvantage, he escaped to a more advantageous position.

Apparating to the roof of the now burning building, courtesy of his earlier spell, gave him a superior view of the area. The Aurors were momentarily distracted. He could see one of them picking up the case and opening it.

"You goddamn idiot."

The Auror, compelled by the curse to put the ring on, collapsed, shrieking in pain, adding to the chaos.

"_There_! He's on the roof!"

Those Aurors were fast learners, because two of them followed his example and apparated instead of trying to aim spells at him from below. He spun around and blocked the stunner one of them was starting to cast, dancing out of the way of the other.

A wide shield deflected two more spells and Harry threw out a bludgeoner before they could react. A portion of the roof collapsed from the impact and one of the Aurors fell inside with the scaffolding. Now within the range of the anti-transport wards and the nullifying field, he was as good as dead.

_Well, they started it._

The other Auror, seeing his colleague's predicament, threw caution to the wind. Harry narrowly avoided what appeared to be some sort of curse and blocked three more spells with a shield. The Auror made a mistake of slowing down after the last one. Harry immediately dropped the shield and banished him off the roof. The Auror shot off into the nearby trees as if launched from a catapult.

Less than thirty seconds had passed since he'd escaped to the roof and apparated away just as two more Aurors arrived. With three out of the fight, one incapacitated by the ring and three others trying to put out the fire, he had them scattered.

Appearing next to the ring's victim, he grabbed another Auror kneeling over his colleague by the shoulder and disapparated again, this time into a short free-fall directly above the surrounding forest, letting go of the surprised man.

Rapid, multiple apparitions were a specialty of his. Most witches and wizards could make a few 'jumps' in an hour, at most. Apparition, on the most basic level, was self-transfiguration into an object of a very small volume and then squeezing oneself through rifts in the skeleton of space. Harry's unique prowess with apparition allowed him to become a master of asymmetric warfare. A group of wizards could overwhelm a single, more powerful individual, but it was much harder when the opponent was literally jumping all over the battlefield.

The Aurors were learning it the hard way.

Harry apparated to a shadowy spot near the house, taking a moment to assess the situation. Those two Aurors on the roof were apparently trying to get their colleague out of the fire, unaware that their spells lost all power once within range of the nullifying field. He could see five others. Three of them were succeeding in fighting the fire, one was still writhing on the ground and the last one was trying – and failing – to help him get the ring off. Two more were somewhere among the trees, probably sporting some broken bones and he had one more in Godric's Hollow.

That made eleven. Harry had to assume the last one had left to bring backup. Not that he planned to hang around long enough to see for himself.

He apparated some sixty feet forward, quickly stunning the Auror trying to play field medic and then the one wearing the ring. His skin of was rapidly turning black. Harry could see streaks of the curse peeking from under the collar. Even if he wanted to help, he didn't know how. The curse was a combination of pure magic and poison and he lacked the necessary expertise when it came to the latter.

He cut of a portion of the Auror's robe with a cutting spell and pulled the ring off the man's finger through the fabric, careful not to touch it with his own bare skin. Everything took mere moments and he was gone again before any of the others could spot him. He only came back back to drop off their obliviated colleague and left them to deal with the situation, apparating away just as the missing Auror came back with another two squads in tow. Safely back in Godric's Hollow, he scrutinized the Resurrection Stone fixed into the golden band.

"Nope," he said out loud in a deadpan tone, "I think I'll pass. I can't imagine mum and dad are very proud of me right now."


	7. Step Seven: Locket

**AN: **As of April 28th, 2014, the chapter was partially rewritten. A tiny edit was also given to chapter six to reflect the changes.

**Step Seven: Locket**

Harry propped Narcissa up against the wall, pried her mouth open and poured a few drops of the antidote onto her tongue. The potion was absorbed quickly and neutralized the Draught of Living Death in Narcissa's system.

"Hello," Harry said. "Sleep well?"

She stared at him, seething. Was she expecting VIP treatment in captivity?

"I'm going to need your help with just one small thing," he said "And then I'll let you go. I trust you'll be able to find your way around muggle London."

Narcissa's eyes widened comically.

"You wouldn't dare," she blurted. Harry just grinned at her.

"You're going to have to do better than that to intimidate me. I've stared death in the eye more times than I can remember. I don't cower before pureblood authority. Get up."

He grabbed her elbow and roughly pulled her to her feet. She tried to shake him off, but he had an iron grip on her arm.

"I advise you to stop struggling, unless you want to end up grotesquely splinched," he said calmly. "Do you think Lucius will still like you with only one eye?"

She glared at him and grabbed his wrist with her free hand. "I will not be manhandled in such a way."

"I could manhandle you in another way, but frankly, I don't have the time and I'm not into rape," he said. "So, why don't you just do as I say, or I'll find some homeless muggle and make him do the deed."

Narcissa froze, her eyes betraying a hint of fear for the first time.

"And before you say it, yes, I _would_ dare."

~~oOo~~

Harry apparated himself and Narcissa to a small park that occupied one side of Grimmauld Place, along its entire length. There were no people in sight, but as he crept closer to the street itself, the sounds of London waking up for another weekday reached his ears. Early risers hurried along, cars drove by. He searched the line of identical houses for the building that was bound to stand out. Sure enough, the considerably less inviting facade of Number 12 was nestled between its neighbors. Current protections were more than enough to for a family of paranoid purebloods. There was no Fidelius Charm – Dumbledore had cast it twenty-four years ago and four years from now – but the place was unplottable, which meant it was unfindable by anyone who didn't already know where it was. Of course, unlike the Fidelius Charm, it only worked as long as you didn't simply come here and see the house or looked for the address at the Ministry. Unplottability served foremost as a protection against muggles.

He cast two Notice-Me-Not charms and had to almost drag Narcissa across the street, towards the house.

"Open the door," he ordered, grasping his wand.

Left with no other choice, Narcissa did as told and placed her delicate hand on the doorknob. She muttered something quietly and there was a click. Narcissa turned the knob and pushed the door open. Harry went in behind her, keeping his wand trained on her back. The house wasn't what he had expected.

There wasn't a speck of dust in sight. While the hall was still properly dark, the floors and the wooden panelling looked clean enough to eat from.

This place wasn't abandoned. Someone was here. Someone other than Kreacher.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a lean silhouette of a man emerged from the shadows deeper in the hall. Driven by instinct, Harry grabbed Narcissa's neck and pulled her closer, stabbing his wand into her side as Cygnus Black came closer.

"Clever," Cygnus commented, "using my daughter to get inside. But you needn't have bothered so. I would've let you, had you only asked."

Harry swore quietly.

_Things just got more complicated. _

To the best of his knowledge, Cygnus Black was, apart from Sirius, the only male Black left until sickness took him in 1992. Sirius' uncle was a pureblood through and through and, in general opinion, one of the last who truly deserved the title. Obligatory muggle-hating tendencies aside, he was a skilled duelist and shrewd politician. A man dangerous enough that his enemies left him alone in his later years, choosing to let his poor health do him in.

While Harry was reasonably sure that Cygnus, old and sickly, couldn't stand up to him, he wasn't going to underestimate the man. He'd already made that mistake with Lucius and had to fend off two squads of Aurors because of it.

Had Ron and Hermione managed to come along, they could have simply overpowered Cygnus and Kreacher. As it was, Harry would be fighting against two opponents. House-elves could be surprisingly dangerous if sufficiently pissed off and most Aurors had nothing on a wizard like Cygnus Black.

The sixty-something man looked much like Barty Crouch Senior – even near the end of his life, ill and mostly forgotten, he still tried to look presentable. His robes were spotless and his graying beard neatly trimmed.

"Good morning," Harry said. "I... really have nothing else to say. I was expecting the place to be empty."

Cygnus let his hands, until now clasped behind his back, fall to the sides, revealing his wand.

"My son-in-law has managed to inform me of what happened at his house," Cygnus said.

"Then you know I beat him and a bunch of Aurors," Harry snapped. "So why don't you play nice and just give me what I want."

"I don't know who you are," Cygnus said, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint, "but I will not cower before anyone who threatens my daughters."

"There's still one left I haven't threatened," Harry said. "The way I see it, I'd be doing you a favor if I killed Cissy here. Andromeda was always the best of them."

The older man's nostrils flared as his anger surfaced. Apparently, he preferred to think Andromeda never existed.

"Let my daughter go," he demanded. "Then we can resolve this like men."

Harry weighed his chances. Did he feel confident enough to go against him? Blacks had always produced skilled witches and wizards and Cygnus was one of their finest. In all honesty, Harry would have no qualms about calling him his equal. Of course, he'd never say it out loud... Still, with his poor health, Harry had the advantage of youth and speed.

As for Narcissa, he would have let her go anyway. He wasn't planning on killing her. While associated with Death Eaters, she never took the Mark herself. Her biggest concerns in life had always been throwing parties for the wizarding elite and her son. For all her faults, she loved her little murdering psycho. Ron had had a theory that her love might have gone _beyond_ the usual maternal feelings. Hermione had been shocked when she heard.

"I think neither of us has any delusions that the _resolution _will be peaceful," he said.

"If you've come to take something from this house, don't expect me to simply let you take it."

"Very well. Get out," he snapped at Narcissa. At Cygnus's nod, she fled the house, out into the street. "So. Are we going to just stand around?"

In the relatively short hallway there was no time for precision casting and complicated spells. Harry lead with a Reducto, followed immediately by another, and another. Cygnus was quite fast with his wand, however and deftly deflected the curses which would otherwise have reduced him to a bloody mist. Two of the spells put sizeable holes in the nearest wall, but Cygnus angled his shield to send the last one back at Harry, who had no choice but to shield against it. While there was no anti-apparition ward, apparating during an intense duel in small, enclosed spaces presented more danger than he was willing to accept. His memories of Grimmauld Place were cloudy and he didn't remember the layout of the building well enough.

As he went on the defensive, Harry continued to shield against the volley of fast curses Cygnus was sending his way until the old bastard flipped a bludgeoner in his direction. Harry took it head on and immediately regretted it – sick or not, Cygnus could pack a punch with his spells. The second bludgeoner threatened to break his shield, so when Black, seeing that his strategy was working, cast yet another, Harry threw himself to the side, diving into the short corridor leading to the library at the back of the house.

Coming out of a forward roll, he spun around and swept his wand sending out a wide cutter, which Cygnus, looking royally pissed, swatted away with barely a gesture. The curse left a three-foot gash in the wall.

Harry dashed into the library, angry at the fact that Black had the upper hand. He send another series of Reductos, none of which did any noticeable damage, although Harry's speed created an opening. He grinned darkly, a bludgeoner on the tip of his wand-

He was blasted sideways, straight into a bookshelf. It hurt like hell and cost him his chance to end the duel quickly, but at least he was outside Cygnus' line of sight.

Thankfully, his armor absorbed most of the impact and Harry was able to put up a shield in time to defend against more of Cygnus' curses. Behind his master, Kreacher stood in his dirty rag, infinitely pleased with himself.

Just as Harry picked himself up, he was forced to dodge behind another bookshelf.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The Killing Curse must have struck some particularly nasty tome, because it caught on fire.

Harry was counting on his versatility in this battle. Cygnus, while a powerful wizard, still thought like a wizard. And in a fight, most wizards don't think outside the box because there isn't time and they hadn't been taught to do it.

Harry's bludgeoner tore a large hole in the bookshelf separating him and Cygnus and traveled beyond it. Black barely managed to raise a shield, but it was for naught; Harry was ready to follow up with the-

Again blasted across the room, this time crashing into a coffee table, Harry growled in frustration. An opponent of equal skill demanded all of his attention. Goddamn that elf. He had held back because, frankly, he didn't want to destroy Sirius' house without his consent, but...

_Fuck that shit. _

"_Az-reth_!"

Fiendfyre, when unleashed upon his family's legacy in such a reckless manner, seemed to have thrown Cygnus off balance. Harry fueled the Cursed Flame for a moment before cutting off the flow of magic – Black immediately seized control, handily reigning the inferno in.

"Not this time, motherfucker!" Harry yelled, blocking another of Kreacher's attacks. The elf, unwilling to take the risk of fighting the unknown wizard, disappeared with a crack, just as Harry's Killing Curse blackened the floor where he had stood.

Harry ducked under Cygnus' Killing Curse, his adrenaline levels shooting up even higher – it was the closest to death he'd come during his adventure.

He cast two simple cutters quickly, both of which Cygnus blocked. Harry didn't let up and followed up with more curses, steadily increasing the pace for the next minute until Cygnus couldn't block anymore, and was instead forced to constantly keep up his shield.

"_Tonare_!" The bludgeoner caused Cygnus' shield to flash a pale blue, a sign that it was weakening. Harry cast another, but the spell flew through where Cygnus had been accompanied by the crack of hasty apparition before putting another hole in opposite wall.

Cygnus obviously felt confident enough to apparate within the house.

"Bugger," Harry muttered. He made a quick decision and too, apparated.

He landed back across in the park across the street. Casting a Notice-Me-Not Charm on himself, he, considered his options. He'd rather not deal with any more Aurors. He had to think of something and fast.

_The Ministry has their Obliviators, right? Let them be put to some use._

Donning the Cloak again, he walked to the edge of the street and aimed his wand Number 12's front door. The Blasting Curse would be suitable for this. It was a simple, direct spell, with a travel time so short it was almost nonexistent, no visible light effect and low precision. Great if you wanted to blow things up but didn't have much time.

"_Bombarda_!"

The front door exploded, small pieces of wood showering the street. Harry then obliterated the section of the wall right next to where the doorframe had been seconds ago. This time, glass from the window rained down upon the passing car which screeched to a halt. It took another small explosion for the driver to frantically back up.

Harry moved a few yards to a new position after each spell. Cygnus could only observe the effects of his work, but couldn't see the demolisher himself.

Within a minute, Harry removed the entire front of Grimmauld Place 12. It needed redecoration anyway.

Still invisible, he jogged across the street. In the distance, a dull roar of sirens could be heard as muggle authorities drew closer. They would be here soon enough.

Harry entered the house again and stormed up the stairs to the room holding, among other things, the Black family silvers, a decorative dinner set and an old cabinet, the last known location of the horcrux. Because there was no wall, Harry had a good view of the force of Aurors and yellow-robed Obliviators that had just arrived. Cygnus was with them.

Harry reduced the cabinet to smithereens in the way he had wrecked the house's facade. Wood splinters bounced off the walls and his shield and among them, on the floor, lay a heavy golden locket.

"NO!" a furious, annoying voice yelled, a voice Harry knew well. "You will not take Master's locket!"

Harry jumped out of the way of Kreacher's spell, blindly casting a bludgeoner over his shoulder and was rewarded with a cry of pain.

"And Potter scores!" he exclaimed, snatching the locket off the floor.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

In a flash of green light, Kreacher was no more.

_The world is a better place without that little creep in it._

Harry tried to apparate away, only to slam into the anti-apparition jinx. He was a blink of an eye too late. Outside, the Obliviators were already hard at work, trying to turn the chaos into order. Harry spotted Cygnus lead a group of Aurors inside the wreckage of the main hall.

With only seconds to decide his next course of action, Harry ran toward the staircase and leaned over the railing – Cygnus, still in the lead, was making his way upstairs, the Aurors trailing behind him. Harry decided to cut them off before they had the chance to fire the first spell.

As quietly as he could, he moved several paced to the side, fishing for a vial in his pocket, and waited until Black was directly below him.

"_Tonare_!"

Cygnus had no chance - a portion of the stairs exploded downward in a shower of deadly splinters, shredding his clothes and skin. Harry jumped down through the man-sized hole, landing atop the heap of wood and what was left of Black, letting loose with another bludgeoner at the Aurors. One of them down the line was fast enough to put up a shield, but he mostly shielded against his colleagues who had been flung at it with the force of Harry's spell. Using the momentary distraction, Harry flung himself over the edge of the staircase. He landed on the ground floor, hard, and rolled to dissipate the impact. Still, a two-story drop did nothing to help his knees.

With the rest of the Aurors outside, he didn't even think to try the front. Instead, he smashed another vial of Instant Darkness Solution and nonverbally cast the spell to activate a feature of his charmed lenses, allowing him to see. His vision was still blurry, but it was enough to find the kitchen door. He brought out his broom again and made for the door.

With no idea if more Aurors didn't wait for him in the back yard, he mounted the broom in front of the door and blew it off its hinges, putting up a shield immediately afterward.

Fortunately, the tiny expanse of grass, neatly maintained by Kreacher, was empty and Harry launched himself toward the sky, apparating as soon as he was outside the range of the anti-apparition jinx.

In his hideout, Harry laid out the horcruxes on the floor and regarded them critically for a moment before tearing into the old floorboards. He dug out a shallow hole, strengthened it with a few spells and placed the horcruxes within, finally covering it up with the boards again. They would be safe there for the moment; he wasn't going to risk taking them anywhere near Voldemort while he was still free.

There were still a few pieces missing in his puzzle.


	8. Step Eight: Enemy

**Step Eight: Enemy**

Harry spared a last glance at the unfortunate muggle he'd robbed. The weak Confundus Charm would wear off within a few minutes. Harry emptied the man's wallet of cash, took his wristwatch and went to look for the nearest newspaper stand. He'd left his armor in Godric's Hollow and transfigured his clothes into something that wouldn't stand out in a crowd of muggles.

He picked up the first magazine he could see and searched for the date.

July 31st, 1991.

He cracked a grin. If his stolen watch was correct, the other, younger Harry should be in Diagon Alley with Hagrid right now. Good. That gave him some time to make the final preparations.

Not knowing what to expect, he decided to vacate his ruined childhood home. Hermione had done her best, but Voldemort had been thorough in making sure the horcrux research was restricted. He methodically found and either took or destroyed any book, scroll or person that had any information about soul containers. The only materials Hermione had left to work with were Dumbledore's old notes and the Headmaster never knew much about the process itself. For all Harry knew, the ritual might entail colorful lights and fireworks and he didn't want to draw attention in fear of being interrupted at a critical moment.

Thus, the afternoon saw him sneak into Hogwarts again, this time through the front door.

Catching an Auror patrol in Knockturn off guard had been easy and no-one there even looked at him as he dragged the two men away. He used his last two doses of the Draught of Living Death and left them in Godric's Hollow. He took the robe off one and cast a few charms to disguise himself.

There were dozens of Aurors miling about Hogwarts and Dumbledore was away, off to meet with the Minister, who, Harry suspected, had to be shitting his pants. Barely a few months in the office and some obviously dark wizard goes on a rampage. Property destroyed, people dead. A politician's worst nightmare.

No one paid him any attention when he separated from a small group and made his way to the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He only had to sneak in that way once. There was another exit from the Chamber of Secrets, but it had to be opened from the inside.

"Who are you?" the familiar voice demanded. Myrtle emerged from one of the stalls, silvery eyebrows furrowed. "This is a _girls'_ bathroom."

"I was thinking of a new game," Harry said casually. As always, there was water all over the floor. He gathered some of it into a ball and transfigured it into a notebook. "Throw a book through Myrtle! Ten points if it goes through her stomach. Fifty if you hit the head!"

With that, he threw the notebook at the ghost. She was too stunned to move and the book flew through her torso.

"Ah, dammit," Harry said, slapping his thigh. "Here, let me try aga-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Myrtle gave a banshee-like wail and flew away, straight into one of the toilets, causing a small fountain of water to shoot up. Harry rolled his eyes at the display.

"_Open_," he hissed in Parseltongue and the sink tap started turning to the side, revealing the entrance. Harry carefully lowered himself into the enormous tube, hanging from the edge.

"_Close_," he commanded.

As the entrance started closing above him, he let go of the edge before his fingers were crushed by the sink tap returning to its place.

After sliding down the pipe, he landed in the centuries old tunnel leading to the Chamber. Animal bones crunched beneath his feet with every step as he walked quickly. The shed skin he remembered being here last time was nowhere in sight. The basilisk must have shed it after Ginny opened the Chamber.

He wasn't worried about the snake. With his own scar still containing a piece of Voldemort's soul, he could speak Parseltongue and while Voldemort was the righteous Heir of Slytherin by virtue of being descended from the elder brother, Harry was also descended from the ominous founder of the Slythering House. Ron had staunchly refused to believe it, even when Harry stuck relevant genealogical evidence in front of his nose.

The basilisk was an animal, it didn't choose its master. The magic of Chamber made sure that the claimant was suited to command Slytherin's Menace and magic didn't discriminate.

The circular door closed behind him and Harry walked briskly up to the statue of Slytherin at the other end. Torches high on the columns lit up as he passed by.

Only two people in the world, soon to become one, knew this, but wards surrounding the Chamber prevented apparating in and out, but not within the boundaries of the Chamber itself.

He looked up at the statue's grotesquely large mouth and spoke:

"_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._"

Harry always thought the phrase summoning the basilisk was terribly pretentious.

The mouth opened wide, filled with darkness. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, he heard something large slithering towards him, a sound almost like wet stones sliding across each other and from Slytherin's mouth, his beast emerged.

The basilisk fell heavily on the floor, its enormous body coiling, the front raised high above Harry, fangs bared.

"_Down, boy_," Harry ordered firmly. "_You stand before an heir of Slytherin_."

There was no great drama. The basilisk simply closed its mouth and stood still, but for its head swaying slightly from side to side. Still, Harry pointedly avoided looking at its eyes, just in case.

"_Go there_," he said, pointing toward the numerous smaller tunnels opening into the Chamber, that lead all over Hogwarts. "_Leave me_."

The monster obeyed, slithering away. Harry shuddered a bit. Obedient or not, having the basilisk in such close proximity gave him the creeps. He would need to take care of it permanently sometime.

With the way cleared, he looked up at Slytherin's mouth again and apparated, finding himself at the edge of the opening. He lit the way with his wand as he walked through the tunnel. Closer to the end to grew wider and was illuminated by a greenish glow, similar, but different from the light cast by the torches in the Chamber proper. Eventually the passage opened into a larger space – one of the Chamber's famed Secrets.

~~oOo~~

The basilisk's lair was a cavern, almost as large as the Chamber itself. It was roughly oval in shape, with a domed ceiling and illuminated by vivid green light emanating from thousands of tiny, glowing points that seemed to constantly move across the walls. Harry approached the nearest wall and as he did, the lights turned into familiar insects.

Glowbeetles ignored him entirely, even though their cursed cousins tried to eat him alive not long ago. The entire Chamber complex was a strange ecosystem – the basilisk ate whatever it could, mostly small animals that stumbled into its domain. The giant serpent didn't need much food, however bizarre that was – it survived mostly on the very presence of beetles.

Harry didn't want to think how Slytherin even came up with all this – by some old magic, lost to the ages, the snake 'drank' the magical light the beetles produced. Whenever it shed a skin within the cavern, the glowbeetles devoured it. Enchantments on the place prevented them from leaving, so when that particular food was scarce, they turned to eating each other.

When Harry first discovered the cave and told Hermione about it, she demanded he take her there to study it. She had been disappointed when they didn't find anything in the Chamber itself aside from the basilisk's corpse. There were no hidden rooms, no old tomes full of ancient knowledge, nothing. She took it as a personal affront – how dare Slytherin not leave something important there? It was called the Chamber of Secrets, for Merlin's sake! Harry didn't last long – after a day of her nagging, he led Hermione to the cave, where she almost died. The moment she stepped inside, the glowbeetles turned from docile crawlers into murderous little monsters.

With Dumbledore's help, they found out that the beetles were apparently aggressive by default and only Slytherin's prevailing magic kept them from killing things. Anyone with a familial connection to the Founder, however faint, could enter safely, but anyone not of Slytherin's blood would collapse the submission spell and the beetles went in for the kill. Further studies revealed that feeding them any powerful magical creature – or a part of it - would cause them to glow. Harry spent a frivolous month testing this particular trait of the beetles. With a clear goal in mind, he gathered a few thousand and set off for Azkaban. In the end, he grudgingly concluded that dementors were an exception to the beetles' diet. It seemed that the wraiths were truly unkillable by any means known to wizards.

At the far end of the cavern, there was a small pond – or that's what it looked like at first glance. It was a clever enchantment. The water seemed very real, until you dipped you hand in it. The illusion was nothing more than a blanket, a curtain, covering another of the Secrets – a second way out.

Harry walked up to the edge and found a spot where the rock formed natural steps. He descended below the surface of the illusion, finding himself at the bottom of the faux pond. Opposite from him walls formed a small crook that the green light didn't reach. There was a break in the rock there, just enough for a person to slip through. It led into a narrow tunnel, at first flat until it left the cavern behind, then beginning to curve upward. Harry lit his wand and started a lazy trek to the surface – there wasn't enough space to ride a broom in here, especially in the tight corners.

It was an incredibly claustrophobic experience, even more so than the tunnel under Azkaban. Even though Harry knew perfectly well there was no danger here, he still wasn't looking forward to coming back. Alas, he would need to make the long walk at least twice more.

As he neared the end, the rock gradually gave way to gravel and dirt and tree roots started protruding from the ceiling. After an hour of climbing, he reached the exit. It was blocked by a solid wall formed by thick, wiry roots of an ancient tree, one of the oldest in the Forbidden Forest.

"_Open_."

At his command, the roots started moving, unwinding knots and untying themselves from each other, letting daylight in, and formed a natural portal under the old oak tree. Harry emerged from the tunnel feeling tiredness beginning to set in again, a sign that the Invigoration Draught was wearing off. He chugged his second and last dose down – it would have to do. He could sleep when Voldemort was dead.

Behind him, the entrance to the tunnel closed, the roots crawling back into place. Every visitor to the Chamber had to first open it from the inside, or else it wouldn't open for them from the Forest's side. Now that he'd done it, he could come back to the Chamber this way, without having to worry about anyone finding him. He would be hard pressed to find a more secure place for the last stage of the Plan.

And there was poetic justice in ending Lord Voldemort in the place where he had chosen his name.

~~oOo~~

Harry waited patiently in the dead of night, standing at the edge of a cliff. His Cloak billowed in the howling wind and smacked him angrily across the face, but he ignored it. Hands clapsed behind his back, he awaited the arrival of his enemy. He had opted for a simple approach. Stealing a school bird from the Owlery had been easy. He sent a cryptic letter to Quirrell, making sure to include several veiled references to things only Voldemort would know of. The bait had to be good enough to lure Quirrell to him. Harry didn't think he'd bring someone along – he cared too much about keeping his master's status secret – but he had nonetheless put the Cloak on. That way, he could leave without being seen in case Quirrell did come with backup. He wasn't going to risk fighting a Voldemort-enhanced Death Eater with other people around.

Fortunately, he had guessed right. Shortly after midnight, Quirrell arrived, apparating without the faintest sound. Or maybe the wind had drowned it out.

Harry threw the Cloak off and approached Quirrell slowly.

"Hello there," he said. "You've decided to come, then."

Quirrell's usual bumbling persona was nowhere to be seen. This wasn't a timid Muggle Studies professor. This was a possessed motherfucker with a quick wand and quicker mind. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry.

"You seem... familiar. Have we met before?"

Harry grinned dangerously. "In another lifetime."

He led with a stunner, just to see how Quirrell would react. He had dueled Voldemort enough times to know how he fought. How much did old Tom influence the jumpy Ravenclaw?

He didn't bother to dodge it, even though it would have been easy, instead swatting the spell away.

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"As you wish. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Quirrell merely tilted his head to the side. The spell flew past him, the magic dissipating somewhere over the roaring ocean.

_Okay, now he's pissed._

"Better," Quirrell said. "But still not good enough."

"I have a few more tricks up my sleeve."

A bludgeoner slammed into Quirrell's shield. It held, but the sheer force must have surprised him. This time, he didn't answer with words.

Harry wasn't going to take any chances. Voldemort, and by extension Quirrell, was capable of using non-verbal magic exclusively and any of his spells could be something that would pierce the strongest shield like paper. He rolled, spun away and dodged the curses Quirrell was throwing at him, snapping off his own spells whenever he could. Even reduced to possessing someone else's body, Voldemort was as fast as ever.

Harry saw an opening and sent out two cutters, one high, one low. Quirrell stepped to the side, allowing the spells to pass over his shoulder and between his legs, never turning his attention from his opponent.

Harry stepped as well, narrowly avoiding a yellow curse. He felt the magic lick his skin as it wheezed past him. He lifted his arm and a Cruciatus flew under it, as he cast one of his own. Quirrell aimed at his feet next.

The earth in front of him exploded. His shield snapped into place, stopping the shower of debris, but costing him precious time. He rolled backwards as two more curses flew over him. Returning swiftly to a standing position, he swept his and in an arc, attempting to obscure Quirrell's vision with a flame which he immediately followed with a Blood-Burning Curse.

Too imbalanced to dodge the next spell, he was forced to deflect it with an off-hand shield and blocked the next one with a swish of his wand. Now Quirrell had to shield against his own deflected curse, buying Harry a second to snap off a bludgeoner, which Quirrell barely blocked.

Flinging another Killing Curse at Quirrell, forcing him to conjure a stone barrier, Harry then aimed somewhere to Quirrell's right, replicating his move. A patch of earth exploded into the air and Harry swung his arm wildly, banishing it at Voldemort and sending forth another cutter immediately after.

Caught from two sides, Quirrell put up a wide shield. Harry sent out a bludgeoner, hoping to break it, but Quirrell poured more magic into it and then moved out of the way, allowing the shield to drop and the next bludgeoner to pass, causing no harm.

_Time to step it up a notch._

He conjured a jet of Fiendfyre and threw it at Quirrell. Voldemort's minion dispelled it with little difficulty, but in the short time it took him to do it, Harry managed to raise a foot-thick barrier of solid stone between them. When Quirrell blasted it apart, Harry was waiting.

A wide banisher sent a cloud of rubble in Quirrell's direction. Harry focused on a large piece and transfigured it mid-flight.

The chunk of stone turned into an eagle, which was quickly joined by another, and another. Another piece became a wolf, and a particularly big fragment was turned into a bear. Quirrell dispatched the animals with deadly efficiency, but by the time he was done with the last one, Harry was already preparing another attack.

He threw out another Killing Curse, knowing that Quirrell would dodge it – he wasn't actually trying to kill him. Just keep him busy.

Conjuring a length of rope, Harry slashed his wand, turning it into a snake. The snake then swelled in size until it was three feet thick and lunged forward, head reared back. It occupied Quirrell for a few precious seconds while Harry raised a chunk of the ground near Quirrell. Working fast, he turned it into a lage claw and animated it.

His snake already gone, Harry jumped aside, dodging a nasty looking curse and retaliated with a Cruciatus, followed by another cutter. Quirrell summoned debris to block both spells, but it diverted his attention from the animated claw. The earthen fingers grabbed at his legs, unbalancing him. Harry let loose a bludgeoner.

With his legs held in place by Harry's animation and the bludgeoner aimed high, Quirrell's torso was violently pushed backwards, slamming him into the ground. He let go of his wand and groaned in pain.

"_Impedimenta_!"

With his enemy paralyzed, Harry came closer. Spotting Quirrell's wand, he summoned it and tucked it away.

He grinned. "Looks like I win."


	9. Step Nine: Horcrux

**AN: **A short chapter, but it didn't need to be longer. Now, everybody sing with me: _We love cliffhangers! Eeee-O!_

**Step Nine: Horcrux**

Harry apparated to Little Whinging with a typical, loud crack. Quiet apparition with a passenger wasn't impossible, but it took someone of Dumbledore's skill to do it. While Harry wasn't without his talents, he never focused much on the finer points of magic. He could fight and blow things up and that was enough for him. He'd always had Hermione for everything else. That was why he was somewhat nervous about the next step. Hermione should be here, telling him what to do. He had memorized all necessary information just in case, but it didn't help that he didn't understand half the theory behind the ritual that Hermione had devised.

_Hey. You're not going to chicken out now, are you, Potter?_

He had paralyzed Quirrell as much as he could without killing him and then knocked him unconscious – with three stunners, just to be sure. He had carved three runes of binding into Quirrell's forehead, throat and chest, representing Mind, Body and Soul and cast the spell. If Hermione was right – and she usually was – this temporary ward would stop Voldemort from simply leaving Quirrell's body. He was trapped within his host until Harry could deal with him.

He concealed the unconscious Death Eater in some bushes in the park he had apparated to and put the Cloak on again before apparating to the front yard of his childhood home.

The blood wards had no effect on him. They had been designed to keep out people like him – peope who wanted to harm Harry Potter – but since he _was_ Harry Potter, they couldn't stop him. He and Hermione had run an experiment to make sure that the wards wouldn't be a problem. They had set up a small blood ward for him after which Harry waited two hours and then used the only Time-Turner the Order had in its possession, going back one hour. As Hermione had predicted, he was able to cross the ward without any difficulty.

Come to think of it, he might be the only Dark wizard in the world able to just ignore Dumbledore's wards. Anyone else harboring ill intent towards the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't be able to approach the house, not even Voldemort.

_There's a depressing thought. Harry Potter's undoing will be Harry Potter himself. _

He stopped for a moment on the gravel path. Vernon's car looked like it had recently been washed and the lawn was trimmed at the neighborhood's accepted height of two inches. Petunia's rose bushes must have been tended to as well.

Harry went inside and peeked inside the kitchen, spotless as always – well, except when Dudley was having an afternoon snack. The house was clean and quiet, just as Harry remembered it from decades ago.

How he hated this place.

Upstairs, he went straight for the smallest bedroom, where he found his younger counterpart sleeping. The boy had forgotten to take off his glasses and was currently disfiguring the wire frame, lying on one side. Harry stood motionless for a moment, watching his eleven year old self. He had trouble believing he had been this boy once. He seemed too innocent to ever grow into the wizard that was now standing in his room.

"_Silencio_."

He cast the Silencing Charm over the door – it wouldn't do to have Dursleys wake up and maybe even call the police, guided by some crooked sense of self-preservation upon discovering their nephew's disappearance.

"_Stupefy_."

The red bolt of the stunner hit the boy square in the chest. Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and apparated them both away.

~~oOo~~

Having collected Quirrell from the park and the horcruxes from Godric's Hollow, Harry arrived with his two hostages in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, at the edge of Hogwarts' wards. He tied his younger counterpart and Quirrell together back-to-back and levitated them down the tunnel. It was tricky – he had to make sure not to accidentally bump one of their heads on the rocks. He needed the boy's body unharmed and Quirrell alive until the ritual. If he accidentally killed him, Voldemort would be able to escape.

Going down was easier than climbing up, but continuously channelling the Levitation Charm for an hour had him breathing heavily by the time he emerged in the cavern.

Of course, Fate wouldn't be herself if she gave him a break.

He'd been hoping that because Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, he wouldn't cause the beetles to attack, but the moment Harry levitated the Death Eater above the water illusion, the insects rushed at them furiously.

In a way, it was a beautiful sight – thousands of tiny green lights pouring down the walls in numerous torrents were mesmerizing. Harry acted quickly and slashed his wand, carving a shape roughly resembling a circle into the floor and then four simple runes of Repulsion in four opposite points.

"_Repello_!"

There was a quick flash and the simple ward took hold. Harry watched with satisfaction as the man-eating insects piled up against invisible walls keeping them at bay. Hermione had been right after all about forcing him to study runes.

Harry drew a smaller circle, ten feet in diameter, shaping it carefully. Then he drew a slightly smaller circle within. On the band of the created ring, he carved four more symbols: Life opposite Death and Whole opposite the rune for Apart. He then laid his counterpart down in the circle. That done, he laid the other five of Voldemort's horcruxes in a small pile, away from his younger self and the runic circle.

This step of the Plan was the most complicated and had the most potential to go horribly wrong. They couldn't test everything and right now, Harry was operating on pure theory. He told himself that Hermione must have checked her results a few hundred times at least – but still, there was no certainty.

Hermione had designed a modified horcrux ritual. The 'normal' version, if there was anything normal about manipulating souls, didn't exactly sever a piece of the caster's soul and place it in the vessel. The actual effect was closer to creating an imprint of the maker's soul in the object, a copy of sorts. As long as that copy was intact, you couldn't die. Of course, there were possible side effects – under the right circumstances, the horcrux could recreate the maker on its own, which was what almost happened with Ginny and Voldemort's diary.

Hermione's ritual was supposed to make a different kind of horcrux. The required vessel had to be an intact body and since living horcruxes still aged, it essentially had an expiration date. Research suggested that the connection between the maker and the horcrux would be much stronger than with a typical horcrux; upon the maker's death, his or her soul would join itself with the created imprint – in other words, if it worked, the creator would wake up in body that had been made into the horcrux in the first place.

At least that's how Hermione had explained it. There were many very scholarly terms involved in her lecture and Harry had to interrupt her about a dozen times before she put it in simple terms understandable by people who didn't study magic whenever they could spare some time.

Harry had his vessel ready – his younger self, a brand new body, ready to be hijacked. The problem in his case was that the boy was still Voldemort's horcrux. According to Hermione, the only way to destroy that horcrux without destroying the vessel was having Voldemort cast the Killing Curse. Naturally, since Harry was on his own, that was a rather big problem. He had brainstormed possible solutions the previous day while he waited for midnight and Quirrell to arrive and came up with a plan that he hoped was actually as good as it sounded.

He dug out a hole in the rock, a cuboid six by three by three feet and filled it with water. He then fashioned an appropriate stone lid and the improvised coffin was ready.

He positioned Quirrell so that he would see both the unconscious boy and the other horcruxes. Finally, he woke the bound wizard up.

His plan was to cast the Imperius Curse on Quirrell, but being aided by Voldemort, Harry doubted he could force him to submit... unless he could piss him off sufficiently for raw emotions to take over.

"Recognize these?" Harry said, stepping on the diary. "All your horcruxes, together for the first time. Truly, a moment for the history books, isn't it?"

When he was sure that Quirrell's attention was appropriately focused on the horcruxes, he pointed at the pile of treasures with his wand and set them alight with Fiendfyre.

Precious metals melted into a puddle, the diary was incinerated to ashes. The magical backlash forced Harry to take a few steps back, until he almost left the safe zone of the repelling ward. Quirrell fell onto his back, screaming bloody murder.

"He sounds distracted enough," Harry growled and leapt to the Death Eater's side, shoving his wand into the man's cheek. "_Imperio_!"

The mental connection snapped into existence and Harry grinned at the success. He noticed that the link was unlike any he'd ever felt. He chalked that up to the fact that he was essentially controlling two minds at once. He wondered briefly if that had ever been done before.

He handed Quirrell his wand.

"The boy. Avada Kedavra. Now," he barked out an order.

Quirrell obediently flung a powerful curse at Harry's counterpart. He immediately tore the wand from Quirrell's hand and stunned him again. Beads of sweat fell into his eyes as he levitated his nemesis into the impromptu coffin. He checked the runes keeping Voldemort from fleeing - they held strong for now.

He transfigured a long straw and drilled a narrow hole in the stone lid for the straw to go through. Quirrell was lowered into the water and the straw placed in his mouth. Harry then snap-froze the water and covered thus incapacitated Quirrell with the stone lid, sealing him in. Finally, he drew the same three runes that he'd earlier carved into the Death Eater's skin – Mind, Body and Soul – on the stone and cast the binding spell.

For the moment, Voldemort was trapped inside Quirrell's body, who in turn was trapped in ice and under a solid slab of stone, unconscious and unable to move. Harry had no idea how long he'd be out of it – he hoped he would wake up before Quirrell froze to death and Voldemort escaped.

Harry turned to the other him and, ridding himself of all doubts, cast the spell.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The second Killing Curse momentarily enveloped the boy in green light, intensified by the close proximity of the glowing beetles that were still hopelessly trying to breach the repelling ward. If everything had worked out right, both Voldemort's and Harry's souls were gone. The body should now be no different from a Dementor's Kiss victim – just a sack of human tissue.

The original horcrux creation ritual was a nastily complicated piece of magic. It required very precise pronunciation of the incantations and several ridiculous conditions to be met. Hermione's version was smaller in scope and less universal and as such, simpler, given that it could only create horcruxes from living vessels. Hermione incorporated many of the required elements into the spell itself. On one hand, it was a clever manipulation. On the other, it required the caster to memorize the page-long incantation. When magic started swirling, you had to hold on to your wand, not a piece of paper. The fundamental condition, however, remained unchanged.

Fortunately, Harry had killed enough people in cold blood to not have to worry about his soul being insufficiently fractured.

It was a funny feeling when something left his body and settled into the one inside the runic circle. It tickled. Like a breeze coming over from the sea. He had been expecting the usual signs that a Dark ritual had just taken place – searing pain, horrific visions of the blackest places of his soul and a fundamental feeling of wrongness.

None of the above happened. He was honest-to-god surprised.

"I guess I understand Voldemort better now."

In her research, Hermione had been unable to determine if the soul piece residing in his original body would affect the Voldemort of the past. It was entirely possible that the two weren't connected and the whole affair with creating his own horcrux, even a temporary one, was redundant. He wasn't going to take any chances, though. And he would have probably done it anyway. He wanted an enjoyable, carefree life this time around and for that he needed a new, young body.

Of course, he couldn't be sure if going through with the Plan wouldn't cause a paradox or blow up the universe. The twenty-eight year time leap had worked, but were there any guarantees when he was mixing soul magic of past, present and future?

Well, he was about to find out.

He pointed the wand at his forehead.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

Voldemort's fury battered at the runic ward keeping him in place. The murderous glowbeetles tried relentlessly to reach the humans and devour them. Harry Potter, Bane of Voldemort, slumped to the floor, dead.


	10. Step Ten: Identity Theft

**AN: **Aaand the last chapter is here. Tying up the loose ends here.

Thanks to all the reviewers! It's been a fun ride.

**Step Ten: Identity Theft**

He awoke in a painfully non-dramatic way. He didn't gasp and sit up straight. He didn't have a head-splitting headache. There was no screaming, either. In fact, he felt better than ever before – it probably had something to do with no longer having a piece of Voldemort's soul in his scar.

He blinked a few times to clear his vision and groped around for the crooked glasses. He unbent the frame, straightening it as well as he could and cleaned the lenses with the hem of his T-shirt. He looked up and around him. Apparently, his machinations hadn't destroyed the world. That was good news.

Majority of the cavern was completely dark, since all of the glowbeetles were focused around his repelling ward, still stubbornly trying to breach it.

Harry picked up his once and future wand and turned it toward his old body. Right now, it was nothing more than another of Voldemort's horcruxes, only this one was decked out with lots of expensive gear. He entertained the thought of keeping it, but decided against it. There were no potions left and he knew enough about runes to recreate the enchantments himself if he wanted to. The only really useful things were his Cloak, broom and armor.

"Armor off."

When nothing happened, he frowned. The key phrase, spoken in Parseltongue, was supposed to activate the spell which would undo all the clasps and buckles – a useful trick for getting in and out of the armor quickly.

"Armor. Off," he tried again.

On the third time, he realized he wasn't speaking in Parseltongue. Then he turned to look at Quirrell's improvised tomb and shrieked in a surge of fright. He'd forgotten about the basilisk.

The serpent's monstrous head was hanging low over the floor, illuminated by the glowbeetles' light, mouth open. Obviously smarter than the bugs, the basilisk seemed to be waiting until the ward failed and it could strike. Harry's first reaction was to stare back at the snake, feeling very stupid as he did.

Hermione had mentioned this, but she hadn't been sure. Since only Voldemort's line exhibited Slytherin's natural gift, it was likely that Harry's own ability to speak to snakes came from the horcrux in his scar. That, of course, meant that he would lose it as soon as the horcrux was gone. Harry had argued that the gift could have simply been dormant in his line and he was the first to have it.

As usual, Hermione had been right.

"Oh well," he said to himself, causing the basilisk to hiss loudly, "it's not like we haven't planned for this, right?"

With a few flicks of the wand, he transfigured his pyjamas into something more appropriate for adventuring and looted his old body for the the broom and Cloak. With another transfiguration, he fashioned himself a backpack and stuffed the armor into it. With him being much smaller, the Cloak easily his both him and the backpack as he mounted the broom.

Then he jabbed his wand and his old body was burned to ash under Fiendfyre's heat. He couldn't help but grin – finally, only one piece of Voldemort was left and it was not ten feet from him.

He floated over to where Quirrell and his master were trapped and checked both binding spells. The one on the stone was intact, but the one on Quirrell was quickly weakening.

_Right on time. _

He removed the stone lid and with a Warming Charm, melted the ice and evaporated the water. The moment his head was free, Voldemort screamed.

"I WILL TEAR YOU TO PIECES!" the Dark Lord roared from the back of his servant's head. "I WILL REMOVE THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES AND SUCK OUT THE MARROW! I WILL-"

"Oh, shut up," Harry snapped. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The curse struck Quirrell in the chest. The screams stopped for a moment and then Quirrell's eyes flew open, only this time, they were blood red.

Lord Voldemort, embodied once more, started clawing his way out of the tomb-

"_Avada Kedavra_," Harry cast again lazily.

And with that, Tom Riddle was no more.

Harry hovered over the now dead body for an undetermined amount of time, staring into those eyes, now devoid of life, as an exhilarating, cathartic feeling swelled in his chest.

Voldemort was dead. It took him twenty-eight years, but Voldemort was dead and gone and nothing was going to change that. For the first time in his life, he truly felt as if absolutely nothing could spoil his day.

~~oOo~~

Getting out of the Chamber was easy enough. He had flown to the Forest passage, disassembling the repelling ward as he did and slipped into the tunnel before the basilisk could eat him. Where previously the climb took him an hour, this time it was three times as long, according to the watch he'd stolen from that muggle chap. Being young again had its downsides – having a scrawny, untrained body was one of them.

He kept collapsing the tunnel behind him as he went. It was too narrow for the basilisk anyway and the glowbeetles were magically kept from leaving its lair, but he wasn't going to leave it to chance. He'd considered killing the basilisk for the peace of mind, but decided it would be more fun to do it when he was already in school. He could still get the credit for finding the Chamber of Secrets without all that Parselmouth crap he'd gone through in his second year at Hogwarts.

Getting out of the tunnel was easy. Magical tree or not, it still burned like normal wood.

By the time he returned to Privet Drive, dawn had already settled in and he was exhausted. He flew up to his bedroom's window and noticed an owl sitting there. It looked like it was royally pissed. The letter it was carrying had the characteristic Ministry seal on it.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_The Ministry has detected the use of a Silencing Charm followed quickly by a Stunning Spell at your place of residence at thirteen minutes past midnight. _

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further use of magic on your part may result in expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, pertaining to the Decree for Reasonable Restrictions of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C. _

_We also wish to remind you that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (muggles) is a serious offense under Section 13 under International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office, Ministry of Magic_

Harry rolled his eyes and crumpled the letter into a ball. He should've known this day was turning out too well.

~~oOo~~

It seemed he had only just put his head to the pillow and someone was already yelling at him to get up.

"BOY! Bring me the newspaper!"

It was a strange experience, hearing Vernon's voice again after so many years.

Harry grumbled an open his eyes. He had two wands within arm's reach. He would like nothing more than cast an Imperius Curse at Vernon and reduce him to a mere pawn to his will, but the blasted Trace prevented that. It wasn't even that hard to break, but the lesser charm woven into it would alert the Ministry that the enchantment was broken. He would have to deal with the Dursleys muggle style. By the time he reached the ground floor, he started thinking the challenge even appealed to him.

"Bring your own goddamn newspaper, Vernon," he said walking into the kitchen. Vernon's momentarily turned purple while Dudley and Petunia just stared at him in silence. "Hey, watch it!" Harry snapped at his aunt. "You'll burn the bacon."

"_Boy_," Vernon growled. His multiple chins shook like jelly when he spoke. "Just because you're going to that school for freaks does not mean I will tolerate your abnormal behavior."

Harry assessed the situation. He had an empty plate in front of him and Dudley's head made for a large target. Vernon was on the other side of the table and Petunia... well, she was arguably the most dangerous with the hot pan, but he doubted she would think about using it. The most aggressive he'd ever seen her was when she shooed away a wasp.

"We'll see about that."

~~oOo~~

The Dursleys had taken heavy casualties in battle. Dudley was now going to need some stitches on his face in addition to a pig tail removal procedure and Petunia could probably do with a visit to a psychiatrist after her nephew had gone from relatively quiet to openly hostile in one day.

The doctors still weren't sure about Vernon. It was too early to determine what damage the heart attack had caused. Petunia was quick to blame him in front of the police and paramedics, so Harry retaliated with a tale of his own, giving as many details as he could remember. In the end Harry, Dudley and Petunia were taken to a police station while Vernon was being questioned by two officers in the hospital. Harry didn't mind the domino effect his remark had brought on. At least at the station they let him take a nap on the couch without anyone interrupting.

That is, until Dumbledore showed up.

He walked in wearing a suit that looked forty years out of date, worked his magic and within a minute had the authorities convinced that he was a representative of the Social Services and was here to escort Harry to a more appropriate location – he even had the official-looking papers and everything. Harry tried his best to look shocked and awed at what was happening, but he didn't think it worked as well as he would have liked.

"You don't seem surprised," Dumbledore said as they walked down the street.

"I saw a picture of you in Diagon Alley somewhere," Harry said. It was a good bet that the bookshop carried something with Dumbledore's face on it. "Hagrid told me about you. You're Professor Dumbledore, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"You too, sir. Though I still don't understand what this whole Boy-Who-Lived business is about..." he said. _That's right. Draw him into talking instead of asking questions. Doing good. _

"Ah... I think that is a tale for another time. Right now we need to find you a place to stay, I think..."

He'd guessed correctly that Dumbledore would take him to the Burrow. The Weasleys welcomed him with open arms, of course. Ron in particular was over the moon, perhaps even more so than his father, who kept asking questions about muggle technology. By the end of the day, Harry had a bunk bed in Ron's bedroom and had been asked to stay until school started. He managed to sneak out at night and grab the Cloak the backpack and his old wand from Privet Drive – the Trace, as good as it was, didn't pick up apparition.

After years of living under heavy guard whenever he wasn't out fighting Voldemort's forces or tailing spies, he had some difficulty adapting to the relaxed environment of the Burrow. Or perhaps he was just bored. He found himself missing weekly meetings of the Order's leadership and the constant threat of doom that never let his adrenaline levels drop too low.

He lasted four days of this idyll before he started plotting again.

~~oOo~~

Making a new life for oneself required resources. Money, to be specific. Harry knew he would need a lot of money. Goblins had a lot of gold. Much more than they needed – most if it just lay there, collecting dust in their underground vaults.

Oh, if they only knew. He would be _skewered_.The reason why wizards valued gold much less than muggles, was the Philosopher's Stone. Only three had been created, as far as anyone knew. Hell, there could be an entire chest full of those shiny red rocks somewhere, but if there was, no one knew where. And thank Merlin for that.**  
**

The first Stone was created by a Babylonian scholar who delved deeply into the art of alchemy, which Harry couldn't care less about, and managed to synthesize a substance that could turn any ordinary metal into gold (though lead yielded best results) and was necessary in the creation of the Elixir of Life – not only did it provide the drinker with unusual longevity, but was also the most powerful medicine ever known.

The alchemist's discovery guaranteed him a place in history books, but not happiness. Drunk on the power of his invention, he went mad, turning any scrap of metal he could find into gold until one day, he fell into a giant cauldron. In those ancient times, the sudden influx of the precious metal was very much welcome. Sadly, it would take another few hundred years for wizards to understand that building walkways over tanks full of dangerous liquids was a bad idea.

Creation of the second Stone was a factor in the fall of the Roman Empire. Goblins, greedy for gold and fame, graciously put a stop to the raging inflation and hoarded the gold into their caverns, saving the world – or so they claimed – and giving birth to a worldwide magical currency. In short, the magical world had several orders of magnitude more gold than the muggles, which was why every galleon was _actually made of gold.__**  
**_**  
**The goblin currency proved fantastically durable and the only thing that ever changed was the size of coins. Since the early 1400s, a standard galleon was roughly two inches in diameter and about three millimeters thick, and being made of pure gold, it made for the heaviest coin in the world. The exchange rate, set by Gringotts, was five pounds to a galleon. But that was for the coin. If you were to melt it and sell it as gold... Harry suspected that the only reason why no one had ever tried to take advantage of this was the fear of what goblins would do to them.

For someone like Harry, who wasn't intimidated by goblins, it presented a wonderful opportunity. His trust vault alone held a few main Potter vault was decently sized, but the real treasure lay in the Black family accounts.

There were, of course, several problems.

Firstly, he would have to sell the gold gradually. He was no expert, but he could figure out that dumping too much of it into the market at once was threatening to break the market. That he could deal second problem was much more complicated.

Goblins' paranoia when it came to their money had led to _every single coin_ being protected by a battery of enchantments to prevent any tampering. Harry didn't even want to think about the logistical nightmare that standardizing coin sizes must have been those six hundred years ago. Compared to that, fighting a war seemed like a pleasant pastime.

But most magic could be broken, given enough time and effort. Figuring out a way to do it had been a vital part of Harry's preparations before the time leap. He had designed a process which would strip any goblin coin within the affected area of any and all spells.

It would be a hell of a lot of work for one person, but two people could manage it quite well. Harry would trust only one man with this.

Sirius was going to piss his pants in joy... as soon as Harry found a way to get him out of Azkaban that wouldn't seem too suspicious.

First things first, though. There was one more matter that needed resolving before he could proceed with his cunning plans. He never wanted to return to Privet Drive 4, which was still a possibility, as long as the blood wards existed. And that meant that Petunia and Dudley had to die.

Harry wasn't a fan of torturing people, but he did it when the circumstances called for a few crushed fingers. He didn't draw any pleasure from it. The images of Death Eaters playing with someone's internal organs made him sick.

He wouldn't torture his aunt and cousin – but he would make sure their departure from the world of the living wasn't Killing Curse smooth. He had no choice either way. With the Trace, the only magic he could perform outside Hogwarts was apparition.

He sneaked around to the back of the house where he broke the lock – much less noise than breaking a window. Inside, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and crept upstairs where he locked Dudley in his bedroom. Then he quietly approached Petunia in the room she would normally share with her husband.

He clamped a hand over her mouth and with a practiced move quickly slit her throat. The pain woke her up and she looked at him with eyes wide open in shock, clawing at her neck as life drained away. Harry stayed behind to empty Vernon's secret stash of money – he found out when he was sixteen that his uncle kept a few thousand pounds in cash behind a fake back wall in a drawer. He didn't need Vernon's money, but he wanted to make it look like a robbery.

Finally, he went back to Dudley's bedroom and had to resist the urge to wake him up and terrify him before he killed him. The Dudley he knew years ago had known exactly what he'd done, but this was an eleven year old boy. It would feel good for a while before disgust inevitable settled in. He'd killed children before – teenagers whom their parents had taught that there was no higher honor than serving Voldemort – but he never toyed with them. Of course, he'd been a teenager once and even then he knew what the stakes were, but some things seem very different when you're forty than when you're fifteen, so he gave Dudley the mercy of a quick death, same as his mother.

He didn't need to check if they really were dead. He knew how to handle a knife and killing, once you had the first notch on the belt, was easier than many would think. A human being could not survive having their throat cut open.

Well, unless you split your fucking soul.

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

Why are you still scrolling down?

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

There's nothing more. Go away.

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

This isn't a Marvel film, there are no post-credits scenes.

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

\/

_OMAKE FILES_

ZZZAP!

Ron blinked. And again. And again.

"We're not in the HQ anymore, Hermione," he said, feeling a little dizzy. "Did it work?"

Hermione glared at him.

"Of course it did, Ron," she said. "I'm a genius. I foresaw a possibility where we would have to split up, so I made a copy of Agrattsi's Time-Turner. Let's go. We need to find Harry."

"And how do we do that?"

"We'll call the Ministry and ask where they're sending Aurors. I have a feeling Harry would stir up a lot of trouble on his own."

"What if they won't tell us?" Ron asked. "I mean, two random people calling the Auror Office... they have no reason to trust us, especially if Harry's causing trouble."

"When in doubt, threaten."

Ron sighed.

_She used to be such a nice person. _

~~oOo~~

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly, startling everyone but the Boy-Who-Lived and his two friends. "What would I-"

"Draught of Living Death."

Snape blinked and stood stunned for half a second before firing off another question.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," he sneered. "Let's try again, shall we? Where would you look-"

"Stomach of a goat, sir," Harry replied, smiling.

Snape's glare intensified.

"What is-"

"They're the same plant."

_Later, Headmaster's office_

"I am telling you, Dumbledore, the boy is a Legilimens! Who knows what else he can do! He's too dangerous to be allowed to stay at this school!"

Albus looked at his agitated Professor benevolently.

"You're exaggerating, Severus. Mr. Potter is eleven years old and he was raised by muggles. He cannot possibly know such advanced magic. Why don't you take a lemon drop."

"He's a Dark wizard!" Snape shrieked.

"Then you'll get along wonderfully, I'm sure."

~~oOo~~

"...and they're off! Johnson has the Quaffle! She evades the opposing chasers, dodges the bludger and- ah, wait a moment, am I seeing alright? Yes. Yes, I am. It's over. Oh well. On the good side, Gryffindor wins one hundred and fifty to zero, everyone! And I think we might have a new world record for the shortest game of Quidditch ever."

~~oOo~~

"Professor Binns, can you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?"

The ghost turned to Harry, who sat in his place with an innocent expression plastered on his face.

"Why do you ask, Mr. Porter?"

"No reason."

~~oOo~~

"Disarming only, boys!" Lockhart reminded them with a very authoritative gesture. "We don't want any trouble here. On three! One-"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry got his spell off so fast that Malfoy didn't even have a chance to dodge.

"Now now, Harry," Lockhart scolded him, while Snape tried his best to glare at him from afar. "I said 'on three'. I understand that you're eager, but you must give Mr. Malfoy a fighting chance. One, two, three!"

"_Serpensortia_!" cried Malfoy.

"_Incendio_," said Harry. The conjured snake evaporated in a flash of fire before it even landed on the floor. Harry grinned back at Ron, who was giving him thumbs up. Next to him, Hermione was rolling her eyes. In front of him, Malfoy was standing with a very unintelligent expression on his face.

"What?" Harry asked. "Oh, right. _Expelliarmus_!"

~~oOo~~

"As you all know, Sirius Black has recently been cleared of all charges after the real culprit behind the crimes was caught. It is my great pleasure to announce two new additions to our staff this year. Professor Lupin will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and Professor Black has agreed to oversee Hogwarts' new Dueling Club."

Somewhere to the Headmaster's right, Snape accidentally cracked his plate while trying to cut his steak.

~~oOo~~

_Timeline #1_

Harry lived a long life, married seven times, fathered thirteen children and died at the age of one one hundred sixty-two while binge-watching the seventh Star Wars trilogy.

_Timeline #8_

Harry was pulled into an alternate dimension for no good reason, helped overthrow the reign of Dark Emperor Grindelwald and founded the first human colony on Mars after heading the Mars Terraforming Project for seventeen years.

_Timeline#22_

Harry united the Deathly Hallows, quashed a demon incursion from the Fade, defeated the Reapers, lived forever and was awesome.

**AN: **The idea for the above comes from Lens of Sanity's great story, The Dark Lord's Equal. Fiendfyre incantation is borrowed from joe6991's Wastelands of Time.


End file.
